


Bad Joke

by StupidGenius



Series: Life is Pain, highness [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Derek is dumb when it comes to feelings, Hurt Stiles, It's going to seem like one of them died for a bit but KEEP READING, Malia died and Stiles is sad, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt, alot of bad things happen, and i saw the name genim on stiles' folder okay so maybe thats his middle name, cora is asexual, cora knows everything, dont worry the ending is happy i swear, he's not dead dont worry, i just like torturing Derek, its practically canon, maybe my teacher lied to me, stiles if full of selfloathing, the sheriff's name is john because come on, whatever, yes i asked there are college professors that young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 70,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A depressed college mythology professor and his student's older brother take a walk in the woods.</p><p>Sounds like the beginning of a really bad joke.</p><p>(In which the Hales are still werewolves and Stiles is too curious for his own good.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Toddlers that teach

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so.
> 
> I started watching teen wolf literally three months ago, and when I finished the entirety of the series, I started writings shit like this for it, like I always do. I don't post most of them, but I really wanted to post this one, so here it is. the beginning is kind of odd, because while I knew the plot, I didn't really know how to start. but it gets better, I promise.
> 
> Oh, and obviously, I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the other awesome movies and shows referenced.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets his favorite student's brother.

This was not easy.

Stiles didn’t know why he’d decided to become a college professor at freaking twenty five years old. But he had. So he had to get up, put on his stupid shoes and tie and other clothes suitable for school, and teach.

He loved mythology. Ever since sophomore year, when he and Scott searched for the other half of that body in the woods, he’d been interested in it. That was really weird, he knew that, but whatever.

He buttoned up his shirt, staring tiredly at the white walls of his apartment. When he was done, he slipped on his shoes and headed towards the kitchen. He opened the cabinet and pulled out the little bottles of pills. Anti-depressants and Adderall. Perfect. He put some in his palms and swallowed them dry.

They helped some, but Stiles could still feel it. Every second of every day, whether it was a good day or a bad one, it was in the back of his mind.

"First day back after your much needed break." Scott said, walking into the kitchen. Stiles jumped. For a second, he forgot he lived with his best friend since childhood. "How does it feel?" Scott slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"I still find it hilarious you went to a different college just because you didn't want me as your mythology teacher." Stiles smirked, ignoring the question.

"I didn't want to sit through an hour of my best friend lecturing me about stuff like werewolves and vampires."

"That's not what the class is about." Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag with all his papers.

 

\---

 

Derek waited impatiently for his sister's last class to finish. He could hear the professor talking, the many heart beats coming from the room. Her class ended fifteen minutes ago _what was taking so long?_

Finally, the professor announced that the lecture was over and students started to leave. He spotted Cora and grabbed her arm.

"Wha- Derek?" Cora raised an eyebrow, and he let her arm go. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. There's a full moon tonight."

"I'm twenty one, not two." She sighed. "I don't need help on the full moon."

"I know, it's just..." _I don't like being alone_. No. That was childish. He was a thirty one year old man for crying out loud. He just...it was the first time he'd be alone since Cora left for college. Peter was gone. Laura was dead. Cora was all he had left.

"It's okay." She nodded. "You know I don't have to live here. I could stay with you, if you want. It's an hour away, but who cares? I'll wake up early."

"Cora-"

"It's okay." She put her hand on his shoulder. "I-"

Someone cleared their throat, and Cora whirled around. Derek looked up.

The man was around his height, with sad hazel eyes and pale skin. He was carrying a brief case. He looked a bit familiar, but Derek couldn't quite figure out why. "Professor Stilinski." She sounded surprised.

_This_ was her professor? He looked younger than Derek. Hell, he couldn't be only a few years older than Cora herself.

"Cora Hale." He smiled. "You know, you're one of my favorite students. Only person who knows as much about this stuff as me. Maybe more." The man ran a hand through his short, messy brown hair and looked up at Derek. "Who's this?"

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Cora did it for him.

"My brother, Derek. Derek, this is my Mythology professor."

"Stiles." The man corrected, holding out his hand. He stepped closer and shook his hand. This close, he could smell everything. Anxiety. Fear. Coffee. Cigarettes. The strange, sweet smell of pills. The man had dark bruises under his eyes.

"I didn't know they let kids teach college classes." Derek couldn't help it. He wasn't good with meeting new people. Cora glared at him.

Stiles just smiled a little, dropping his hand. He turned to Cora.

"I don't meant to, uh, intrude..." He scratched at the back of his neck. "But, I heard you two talking about the full moon. Did you know it's going to be a blood moon tonight?"

Right. The blood moon. Despite what people thought, it actually did nothing to werewolves.

"My brother was just talking about it." She smirked at him. Derek let out a low growl in response, not liking the attention on him. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

"What was that?"

"Derek's not feeling well." She said. "I'm gonna take him home. See you tomorrow Mr. Stilinski."

"Goodbye Cora." The man nodded, heading in the other direction. Derek sighed.

"Something about that man seems...off." He told her. She rolled her eyes.

"He's a little weird, but he's harmless." She frowned. "There was no reason for you to say that to him. He's got enough problems, no need to insult him."

"I noticed." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don't tell me you've got a druggie for a teacher." He thought for a moment. "Actually, please explain why you're taking a class on mythology when you know more about it than anyone else."

"Okay, first of all, he's not a druggie. The poor guy's depressed, I can smell it in him. I heard his wife died or something." _Oh_. "Second, it's an easy class. They require at least one year of social studies and this was the easiest option." She shrugged. "Plus, he graduated from Beacon Hills high school. Just like us."

"Fine." he grumbled. As he walked to his car, he saw Stiles heading towards a beat up old jeep. Cora followed his gaze and smirked.

"Hot for my teacher, big brother?"

"What? No. He's not even my type."

"I thought you like the tall pale and scrawny types."

"He's a bit young for me." Derek opened the door of his car and motioned for her to get in. She sighed.

\---

Stiles opened the door to the apartment and dropped his bag on the ground. Then he trudged into the kitchen and loosened his tie, plopping down on a worn old stool.

Scott was still at the hospital, so he'd be alone for a few hours. _A few hours to just lie here and do nothing._ He should have papers to grade. He'd asked the sub to leave papers for him to grade. Anything to distract him from thinking about... Well, the sub left nothing. So he had nothing to do until he assigned something to the students.

His phone rang then, and he reached into his pocket, not bothering to check caller ID.

"Hello?" He grumbled.

"Stiles Stilinski, tell me you are not spending your first day back moping around and staring at your boring ass walls." Lydia scolded. Stiles sighed, getting up.

"How would you know what I'm doing right now? I could be on a hot date, you never know." He could see her scowl in his head.

"I know for a fact you are not on a hot date. One, I doubt you'd find anybody to date you that wasn't a student of yours. Two, you are nowhere near ready to date after what happened to Malia." Hearing her name made Stiles wince. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive."

"No...no. It's fine." Stiles nodded. "I...need to move on."

"Not yet you don't. It's only been a month. You can wait until you’re ready." Lydia assured him.

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready." He whispered.

"Do you need me to come over? I was going to the Whittmore's but they can-"

"No." He said quickly. She remains silent while he takes another, much needed, deep breath. "No. I don't. I'll be fine." He shuffled into his bedroom and started to change into his grey t-shirt and sweat pants. "I'll call you if I need anything, okay?"

"Okay." She said softly. "I'll see you next weekend Stiles. Bye."

"Bye Lydia." She hung up. He sighed, finished slipping on his shirt, and collapsed into his bed. God he was tired.

 

\---

 

_There was blood. Blood everywhere. And in the middle of it all, sweet, sweet Malia, twigs and leaves threaded into her hair._

_"MALIA!" Stiles dropped to his knees before her. His dad and the deputy are close behind, stopping short when they see the bloody mess of the girl before them._

_"Son, we called the ambulance. They're on their way." Stiles ignored them, pressing an ear to her chest. No heartbeat. No breath. There was no use. She was gone. He gripped her arms tightly on either side, tears streaming down his face._

_"NO! NO! MALIA! PEASE DONT LEAVE ME!"  He sobbed. For a while, that was the only sound that could be heard. Finally, arms gripped his sides and tried to haul him to his feet._

_"Stiles."_

_"WAKE UP."_

_"Stile, come on-"_

_"MALIA!"  He screamed. He always screamed in the end._

"STILES! It's me, Scott, wake up!" He heard over the sound of his screams. He bolted up, pressing a hand to his chest, and gulped in air. Scott was watching him, hands crossing over his chest.

Stiles closed his eyes, focusing on trying to get his heart rate down. After a minute, Scott spoke. "I though you were getting better." He said quietly.

But he wasn't. He thought back to the last night he had slept in the same bed with her, only one month ago.

_He'd stayed awake for the past hour, watching her. He moved closer, his face inches from hers._

_"What?" Malia grumbled, not even bothering to open her eyes._

_"I always slept in the middle." He whispered. She cracked an eye open._

_"Well, not anymore." But after a moment, she sighed, rolling onto her side and dropping an arm over his stomach. He put his arm under her head and closed his eyes._

_Only to open then a few seconds later. "This isn't going to work."_

_She let out a frustrated grunt. "Then we spoon."_

_"Okay I can spoon." He tucked her into his body, arm under hers, their hands intertwined, and closed his eyes... And opened hem again, glaring at his arm. It's like she could sense him._

_"What now?"_

_"It's nothing...my arm is falling asleep." She shoved him, and he frowned, Turing to glare at the wall. After a moment of silence, he mumbled. "Well I don't like this."_

_"I'm going to kill you." She hissed. He knew she wouldn't._

_"I know, I know, I'm sorry."_

_She turned her head to look at him, and he grinned sheepishly at her. She looked angry, but there was a smile in her eyes._

_"Okay, come here." She sighed. She turned him on his other side and hugged him to her. Oh my god. He had just become the little spoon._

_He gaped at the wall for a second, then smiled a bit._

_"I think this is good." He whispered, closing his eyes. "Yeah. This is good."_

"Stiles?" Scott's voice threw Stiles back into reality. He snapped his head up, just now aware of the tears streaming down his face. "I know you need more time. But try to get better, okay?"

He nodded quickly, rubbing his eyes.

"Y-yeah." God, he wished his voice hadn't cracked. "I'm just...gonna take a walk, okay?" Scott nodded.

"I'll go with you."

"No." He wished he hadn't seen his best friend flinch at his words. "I mean...I'm okay. I'll be fine. I can go alone."

Scott stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay. Don't be too long dude. You know what they say about full moons."

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, it'll get better. It was a lot shorter than I thought it was.


	2. No sane person does that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles should have know weird shit happens on full moons.

Derek was alone in the woods near his house. The old, burnt house. Even though he had his own loft in town, he liked spending full moons out in the house he grew up in, despite the fact that he still had nightmares about the fire. But they happened rarely now. He just liked being close to home. If he tried hard enough, he could get past the smell of charred wood and the lingering scents of his family.

He looked up at the moon and sighed. It had been fun, running in the woods with his family. He missed it.

"Derek." Cora surprised him, but he didn't move. He was used to her sneaking up on him.

"Do you miss them?"

"I don't remember them as well as you do." She admitted. "But yeah. I do." She squeezed his shoulder, then dropped her hand. They stood in silence for a while. It was nice. This was as close to bonding as they could get, Derek being so emotionally stunted and Cora not knowing how to get around it. She's been gone for six years after the fire, and she'd only been back for three. Derek had changed a lot in those years.

She stepped in front of him suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

"No. What-" but then he heard it. Twigs snapping. Bare feet pounding into the ground. A racing heartbeat. And, if he concentrated... A faint, even heart beat even farther away. "Someone's in the woods."

"A werewolf." Cora’s flared, her eyes glowing alpha red.

"There's someone else too." Derek growled. "If it's not one of ours, they could kill them."

"We should go." Her nails grew into claws. He couldn't see his own face, but he knew his eyes were already glowing blue. He could feel his face shifting, changing, easier now that it was the full moon.

They took off running in the direction of the running werewolf, Derek determined to get to it before it got to the human. _What sane person roams the woods at 12 am?_ He found himself thinking. He didn't have much time to dwell on it though.

They caught up to the rogue werewolf in a few minutes. Its eyes were blue, probably a hunger crazed omega that decided to make Beacon Hills it's next food stop. Derek sped up, but it was almost too fast for him. Almost.

The smell of the human was stronger now, closer. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It didn't matter. If he stopped it, it didn't matter.

"Stop." He managed to growl at it when he got closer. The omega (a tan, petite, pretty girl- or she would be, on a normal day, not wolfed out and crazed with hunger) turned quickly to hiss at him before barreling away. Towards the scent of the human. They must be close- Derek could hear their hitching breath, their heart beat quicken.

The girl turned sharply to the left, and before Derek could do anything, she launched herself at the person walking in the woods.

 

\---

 

_"It's like math." Malia sighed, staring at him, her perfect brows furrowed. "I hate math."_

_"Do you hate me?" Stiles hoped that he didn't sound as weak and vulnerable as he felt. It had hurt him so much to know he hurt her. It still stung. She frowned at him, shaking her head._

_"I don't hate you Stiles." She smiled a bit. "I like you. I like you a lot."_

_"Well hey, I can work with that." And then she kissed him. And it was perfect. He had a concussion, and his head was throbbing, and the hospital smelled like hospitals smell and it was completely and utterly_

Stiles stopped walking, wiping angrily at his tears. He couldn't think about her. Not now. Maybe when he was better in a few more months, or years, or maybe even decades. Maybe then he would let himself think about how amazing she was. How happy he was with her. How she managed to make all the bad days better and the depressing thoughts disappear.

She used to kiss him awake, and he'd always complain that she should probably wait until he brushed his teeth. _I don't care_ she said. And then she'd kiss him more.

He was so caught up in thinking about Malia, he didn't even notice the woman running right up to him until she was just a few feet away.

"What-" his eyes widened.

Her eyes were glowing.

Before he had a chance to scream, run, anything, the woman jumped on top of him. All he could hear was growling and snarling. He felt claws dig into his side and-

_What the perfect way to die._

_Just like her._

He'd accepted it when a terrible pain bloomed in the back of his head. There was more growling, and then suddenly the weight that had been pressing down on him and clawing at him was lifted. He expected unconsciousness. He wished for it. But it never came. After a second, he opened his eyes and sat up. His head hurt like hell, something warm spreading under his hair and dripping down his neck. He didn't think about it. He looked down at his once clean grey shirt. The bottom right was torn, five thick, bleeding lines underneath. He touched them, mind fogged over (a small part of him guessed he had a concussion- a bad one), and his hand came back covered in red. _I'm bleeding a lot,_ he realized.

He tore his eyes away from the wound to what was happening before him. A man and another girl were holding down the one that attacked him. All their eyes were glowing. He got up slowly, wincing in pain, and walked over. He put his hand over the wound, as if he could keep all the blood inside.

"... Back to where you came from. Beacon Hills is _Hale_ territory." The man growled. _Hale?_ The wheels in Stiles' mind started turning slowly. Hale...as in...Cora Hale. The same Cora Hale in his class…

" _Go_." It was low and menacing, and it came from the girl with red eyes (Cora?). The woman with the glowing blue eyes stopped moving and whimpered. When they let her go, she shot out of sight, away from Stiles. The remaining two turned to look at him.

"Crap." After his eyes adjusted, Stiles recognized the man as Derek, Cora's older brother.

"What was that?" He blurted. Derek grunted.

"A werewolf."

"Derek!" Cora snapped. "You could have tried to come up with an explanation."

"You're bleeding." Derek seemed to be ignoring his sister. Stiles watched the two exchange looks. His vision began to swim. "We have to get him to the hospital."

Stiles head had cleared up a bit more- thought not much. At least enough for him to realize that werewolves were, in fact, not normal

"Wait wait." He managed, stepping a bit closer. Their eyes weren't glowing anymore, but he knew what he saw. He wasn't crazy...was he? "Werewolves? That's not..." He swayed, collapsing a bit against the older man.

"We can talk about this later, okay?" Cora promised him. "We need to get him to Beacon Hills Memorial before he bleeds to death."

Beacon Hills Memorial? No no no, he couldn't got here. Scott was there. His mom was there. He couldn't... No no Scott couldn't worry about him more that he already did. He gripped the guy's shirt and tried to get him to look down at him.

"I can't...I can't go there. I..." He could hardly finish the sentence. The world went black for a second, and when he could see again, he was cradled against someone's chest. The pain got worse and his vision faded with every beat of his heart. There was a sudden burst of light, and then he was vaguely aware of someone shouting.

"He was attacked by an animal." Except he wasn't... Was he?

 

\---

 

Derek watched them wheel the bleeding man away. After they disappeared, he turned to his sister. Cora didn't look worried about the fact that her mythology professor just found out they were werewolves, but she was like him in that way- emotionally stunted and not very good at expressing anything but anger and irritation.

"He probably won't remember anything when he wakes up." She said after a while.

"Maybe not. But what if he does?"

"I doubt he'll tell anyone." She sighed. "People already think he's crazy..."

"That's Derek hale." He heard someone say. He turned to look a nurse a few feet away. She was talking to someone who looked about the same age as Stiles.

"Yeah mom, I know. But what's he doing here?" He didn't know people still talked about what happened to his family 14 years ago. He thought everyone had forgotten about the fire.

"He found Stiles. Apparently it was an animal attack."

"An animal attack? Like a wolf?" The man asked. Derek narrowed his eyes. _Why would he automatically assume that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another chapter in the same day. Because both of these are way too short so I decided to post them together.
> 
> possibly another tomorrow.


	3. That could kill you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up, Derek tries to figure out what he knows, and maybe stiles thinks some things he doesn't want to.
> 
> And enter Lydia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There  _is_ a panic attack in this chapter, just in case anyone doesn't like reading about things like that.

Stiles woke up when someone started prodding at his side. His eyes flew open, and he groaned in pain. His head throbbed, and the god awful florescent light wasn't helping. But he opened his eyes anyway.

"Just relax, okay Stiles." He recognized that voice.

"Mrs. McCall?" He asked, sitting up a bit. Scott's mother looked up and smiled.

"Glad to see you're awake. We have some scans to do." What happened to him?

"What...why?"

"You hit your head pretty hard. Someone stitched it up while you were out, but we need to take you into surgery for this one." She gestured to the large white bandage at his side. He fell back against the pillows, wincing. Man he was sore. He couldn't remember exactly what happened to him.

"Hey man, you're awake." Scott came in then. Melissa smiled at the two and left the room.

"Hey." He looked around. "How long was I out?"

"Not very long. Just a few hours." Scott looked back at the clock on the wall. "It's 6 am now."

"Crap." Stiles closed his eyes. "I can't take another break from classes. They'll fire me."

"You were attacked by an animal, Stiles. I'm sure they won't fire you." He had? He didn't-

It hit him suddenly, as if someone had thrown a book at his head. He remembered everything. Walking in the woods to clear his head, thinking about Malia, being attacked by a fucking _werewolf holy shit the Hales are werewolves_. Oh god. "Are you okay? You just got really pale."

"I'm f-fine," he stuttered. "Just...don’t like needles." He chuckled, then groaned when the pain in his side got worse.

"Okay Stiles, they're ready for you." Melissa came back into the room with a syringe.

"What's that?" Stiles asked, voice a bit shaky.

"Just something to help you relax." She assured him. "We give this to all our patients with anxiety, remember?" Right. He nodded, watching her empty the contents of the syringe into the IV stuck to his hand. He listened as the beeping from the machine next to him got a bit slower. Scott squeezed his shoulder.

"See you in a bit man. I've got classes to go to."

"Okay." Stiles muttered, eyes dropping a bit. "See you later Scotty." His best friend chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

_He looked over Malia's shoulder at the text book in her hand. "What's all this?"_

_"Green means I get it. Yellow means I'm working on it. And red..." She sighed, flipping through the book. Most of it was highlighted in red. "Red means I have absolutely no idea." Stiles chuckled._

_He glanced up at his bedroom wall. There were strings hanging from where he used to have a lot of pictures up on his walls. Green, yellow, and red. He moved closer to her and she looked up at him. "What?"_

_He pressed his lips to hers. She tasted like Coca-Cola and his spearmint gum. Like home._

_"No." She muttered, pulling away. He pouted. "Study first, remember?"_

_"Study later." He whined, moving her hair away from her neck and placing a kiss under her jaw. She laughed._

_"Study now. If I remember correctly, you're the one that stopped me from making out with you a few minutes ago." She scolded him. He sighed, taking the book in his hands._

_"Okay..." He smiled at her. "Where do we start?"_

Stiles woke slowly. The first think he noticed was the beeping next to him. His mind was still hazy from the drug induced sleep he'd been in, but he remembered that he was in a hospital. He could hear the faint sound of people talking outside the closed hospital door. His thoughts were sluggish and half formed. He barely registered that someone held his hand tightly in their own.

"He should be waking up soon." He heard someone say. "He might be a little out of it."

"Thanks Melissa." _Dad?_ He wanted to open his eyes. But he was so comfortable. And tired. He just woke up but _god_ he was tired.  He was vaguely aware of the door closing. And then it was silent.

"Hey kid." It was his dad. "Don't scare me like that again okay? Melissa called...told me you were attacked by some sort of animal...I don't know what I'd do if-" a deep breath. "You'll be okay. You're going to be okay." He fought against the exhaustion and managed to crack his eyes open a bit. He father sucked in a breath.

"Hi." He managed. He smiled a bit.

"Hey kiddo." His dad smiled sadly at him.

"Looks like I'm going to have some cool new scars, huh?" His voice was hoarse (after spending years in and out of hospitals, he learned that no matter how long you're knocked out or how much water you drank before, you're throat always hurts and your voice always sounds like you're a teenage boy going through puberty).

"I'm sure the girls will love it." The sheriff paused. "Or guys, you know." He rolled his eyes.

"Dad, it's awkward talking about guys with you." He muttered, chuckling.

"Yeah, your mother was a lot better at the whole...relationship thing." He sighed, leaning back. Stiles yawned.

"She was." He admitted. "But you're pretty good at it too."

He remembered all the times his father let Malia stay over. He probably spent a thousand dollars on pizza for the both of them. Malia could eat a whole box in one sitting and then complain she was hungry an hour later. "I miss her." He whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. He reached up to wipe it away, the IV pulling at the skin on his hand. He dad seemed to know he wasn't talking about his mother.

"I know." He sighed. "I miss her too."

"I loved her so much." Stiles could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness. "I was going to marry her dad." It was barely a whisper. His eyes slipped closed.

"I know son." His father gripped his hand. "I know."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was waiting in his Camaro just outside of campus. He could see the building where the teacher that was attacked a two weeks ago worked. Cora was walking towards the car when he took the keys out of ignition and stepped out. Cora raised an eyebrow.

"Where are you going?" She asked him. He shoved the keys in his pocket.

"That mythology teacher of yours is back, right?"

"Derek." She warned. "He didn't mention it, I doubt he even remembers. He's in a lot of pain and you're not going to bother him."

"Relax." He assured her. "I'm going to talk to him." She sighed. He tossed her the keys. "Go if you want to. I'll run home."

"Don't do anything Derek." She called. He jogged around the building. It wasn't difficult to find him. He smelled like the last time Derek had seen him; anxiety, fear, coffee, pills, and cigarettes. Especially cigarettes. He found the man with his eyes closed and smoke billowing out his mouth.

"Nasty habit." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. Stiles jumped. He could hear the man’s heart hammering against his rib cage. He almost felt bad for starting him, especially when the man winced and his hand went to his side.

"Jesus." He breathed. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Those could kill you, you know." He informed him. The younger man laughed. It was humorless, hollow.

"That's the idea." _Oh_. After a moment, Stiles glanced at him. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." A smirk. "It's not like they'll believe me anyway."

 "That's not..." Derek closed his mouth. That is exactly what he was going to talk about. He frowned. "My sister really likes your class."

"Really?" The smile he gave was genuine. It reached his tired eyes, and he dropped to cigarette and stomped it out. "I thought people just took it for an easy A. And I bet it's especially easy for her, you know, since she's..." He swallowed. Derek noticed he tended to move his hands a lot when talking. "A werewolf and all. She probably knows more than I do."

"She does." He said honestly. Stiles huffed.

Derek really didn't know what anyone saw in this kid. Yes, okay, maybe he was kind of (very) attractive, but that's where the good qualities ended. He never stopped moving (even if it hurt him- Derek saw him wince every time he lifted his arm too high), he always smelled like anxiety or sadness, and there was just something about him... He couldn't place it. Stiles was just kind of... _annoying_.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Stiles spoke. "Well-"

"She likes your class…and I doubt she wants her teacher to die of something as mundane as lung cancer. Or die at all, for that matter." He couldn't care less if this man died. He didn't know him; he was just someone who knew his secret. So he really didn't know why he was trying to talk him out of this nasty habit of his.

Stiles blinked at him. Then looked down at his shoes and sighed.

"I'm sure she would get over it." He mumbled. He looked up, avoiding Derek's eyes. "Better get going. I've got a thing to go to." It sounded like a lame excuse, but he let him go.

"You know they have nicotine patches. Might be a wise investment." He calls after him. He looked back, dark circles under his eyes visible even from this far away.

"I'll think about it." He watched the lanky man walk to his beat up old jeep. It wasn't until later that he realized he was smiling.

 

* * *

 

 

Fuck. Fucking fuck _fuck_. Stiles want going to lie, he couldn't lie to himself. Derek was hot. He was extremely hot. He was also six years older and _a fucking werewolf_ but that didn't stop him from being super attractive. He immediately felt guilty for even thinking that. It’s only been about a month since Malia... No.

He tightened his grip in the steering wheel and clenched his jaw so hard he might break his teeth.  It didn’t stop the memory from making its way to the front of his mind.

_He's nervous. God, more than nervous. He's terrified. He had just come out of a panic attack and was now hiding in the bathroom. Stiles realized that maybe he was kind of pathetic. But the thought of what he was about to do terrified him so much he just-_

_"Stiles!? I'm home!" Malia called, door closing behind her. He closed his eyes. He could picture what she was doing right now; what she always did when she got home. She would throw her jacket over the couch, then go into the kitchen and poor herself a glass of milk. He could hear her footsteps- she would be coming into their room to change into her sweats now. Like she always did. "Stiles?" She sounded worried now. "Babe, where are you?" She called. He tensed, burying his face in his knees. He had his legs tucked into his chest, wrapped up in a shivering ball in the corner. He was probably over reacting._

_The bathroom door opened. "Stiles?" She whispered. "Hey, babe, what's wrong?"_

_"I-I have to-" he took a shaky breath. "I have to tell you something."_

_"Did you have another panic attack?" She looked so concerned. He closed his eyes. She'll probably look disgusted in a few seconds._

_"Maybe..." He shook his head. "That's not important."_

_"You're scaring me Stiles." She crouched own in front of him, putting a hand on the back his neck. She moved her thumb back and forth over the short hairs on the nape of his neck. She knew he calmed him down when he got like this._

_"I think...ithinkimbisexual." He blurted. The motion stopped. He looked op slowly. Malia seemed to be in shock or...something. After a few moments of silence, he was getting a bit uncomfortable. And then she started to smile. "Malia?"_

_She covered her mouth with her free hand, but he could still hear her laughing. "Uh...not the reaction I was expecting. You heard me right? I'm...not straight."_

_"Wait." She tried to compose herself, but ended up laughing again. "I'm sorry- I just-wow."_

_"What's so funny?" He was still too scared of what she was going to say to laugh with her._

_"I thought it was going to be something awful like...I don't now, your father died. That one of our friends had gotten into a horrible accident. Stiles, I don't care what your sexuality is." She assured him. He lifted his head completely now. She was smiling at him. "Unless, of course, you're telling me this cause you're breaking up with me for some hot guy, which-"_

_"No!" He said quickly, unwrapping his arms from his legs. "God no. Never. I just..." He laughed. "I was terrified. I thought-"_

_"Just shut up." She sighed, leaning down to kiss him with a smile on her lips._

The traffic light turned green, and it wasn't until the cars behind him started honking that he even remembered he was on the road. He wiped the tears away and started the car. He needed to stop this. Stiles told himself he wasn't ready for this. Wasn't ready to think about her...about everything they had. He promised himself he would think about this later, when the thought of her didn't send him spiraling down into a dark whole of depression. He was already pretty depressed when he was with her. She would be so disappointed in him...

He parked the car, hurrying out of the parking lot. His hands shook as he pulled out the keys to the apartment and opened the door. He barely even got his coat off before he dropped to the ground, shaking. And then he noticed someone sitting at his kitchen counter. Someone with long, strawberry blonde hair.

"Stiles." Lydia crouched down before him. "Hey, look at me."

"I can't-I can't do this- I can't act like she- god Lydia- can't _breathe_." He choked out. Half of it probably didn't make sense, but he didn't care. He was on his hands and knees on the floor, desperately trying to force his lungs to work. All he could managed was quick, short breaths that did nothing to help him.

"Think about something positive." She tried, trying to get him up. "Come on, sit up."

" _Lydia_ \- help- I can't-" he was probably gripping her arms hard enough to leave bruises, but she didn't seem to mind. She seemed pretty calm about this, actually.

"Well I'm not going to kiss you again." She told him, putting a hand on his cheek. "Remember that? Junior year, when your dad went missing. You freaked out in the hallway and I kissed you in that god awful boy’s locker room?"

"Y-yeah." He gasped. _How is this helping?_ He really didn't want to remember his dad being kidnapped by his crazy American lit teacher.

"Remember the third grade?" She asked suddenly _. Where is she going with this?_

"Th-the year I-" he loosened his grip on her. "I fell in love with Lydia Martin."

"Of course you did. Who wouldn't? I was the prettiest third grader in the world."

"Nine year old me would agree with you."

"And twenty five year old you wouldn't?" She raised one perfect eyebrow and dropped her hand. He was still shaking, but he could breathe a lot easier now. He laughed, leaning back against the couch.

"No, I'm pretty sure he would still agree." Stiles smiled a bit. Lydia smiled back.

"All better?" She asked softly. He nodded.

"Getting there." He managed. She sighed.

"Stiles...she wouldn't want you freaking out just at the thought of her."

"I know...I'm trying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up tomorrow?


	4. Worst possible time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia gets Stiles to do something he hadn't done in a while, Jackson isn't such an ass anymore, and Derek really doesn't want to deal with this shit right now

"Lydia, what are you doing here?" Stiles asked after he was sure he had calmed down. Not that he wasn't happy to have one of his best friends visiting him..."How did you even get in?"

Lydia smirked at him like it was obvious. He got up from his position behind the couch. "Stiles sweetie, you've hidden a key on the top of the door frame since you were tall enough to reach."

"Yeah, but you're what, five feet tall?" _Five foot three._ He thought. She hasn't grown an inch since high school.

"Five three. But you knew that." She sat up and threw her hair over her shoulder. "And I thought I'd come for a visit. Since, you know, you were attacked by an animal a few weeks ago. I wanted to see how you were doing." Her smiled dropped. "Not so good I guess."

"I'm better." He didn't know if that was the truth or not. "If it helps, this was my first panic attack in two and a half weeks."

"Well at least they're getting farther apart." She sighed, going to the fridge. "God, there's not enough in here to feed _me_ , let alone you two morons." She turned to look back at him.

He just shrugged. "Scott usually brings something. Or Kira. We usually eat out."

"That's just sad." Lydia shook her head. "We're going grocery shopping. I'm paying."

"Lydia-"

"You used to cook all the time." She said softly. "You loved it. So yes, we're going." He didn't argue further.

"Okay."

"Good. Cause you're cooking dinner for Jackson and me." His eyes widen.

"Wait what?"

"Of course I brought him. We're engaged after all. I-"

"No I..." _Haven't cooked since she died. I don't want to. I can’t even attempt it without seeing her face. She wanted me to be a chef. Please don't make me do this_. "Nothing. It's fine." It wasn't. He didn't know if he could handle this, especially with the stress that keeping the Hale's secret from Scott put on him. But he had to try, right? For Lydia at least?

"Are you sure?" She looked hesitant now. "You don't have to if-"

"I will." He said more forcefully. Lydia nodded.

"Okay. Let's go."

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles never used to get along with Jackson. After he had his...no one really knows what happened to Jackson at the end of sophomore year... and returned from London for college, him and Lydia started dating again. By then, Stiles and Lydia had already become incredibly close, so of course he had to spend a lot of time with the former bully.

Jackson was kind of his friend now. Not as close as he was with everyone else, but they tolerated each other. The old Jackson would have brought up Malia just to torture him. But he knows he won't do that now. Maybe it's because they're friends now. Stiles is sure that it's mostly because Lydia would kill him if he tried to hurt Stiles like that.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Jason asked as Lydia grabbed a cart. Stiles shrugged.

"I don't really know. Lydia said she just wants me to cook." _Lydia please don't make me._ He could never say no to her. He was still kind of afraid of her, even now.

He knows it's kind of dumb, not cooking just because it reminded him of Malia. Knowing how to cook is kind of something humans need to survive. But every time, all he can think about it how Malia always loved everything he made. _'It's great that you can cook, because all I can make is Mac and cheese_ ' she said. _I'm so stupid. He thought, stopping to stare at the Mac and cheese boxes on the shelves. I'm getting all panicky and depressed over food_.

"Stilinski?" After 9 years, Jackson still called him that. "You okay man?" Stiles grabbed a box off the shelf. His hands were shaking a bit, and he's kind of embarrassed that he's actually getting so worked up over fucking _food_ of all things. He closed his eyes and took deep breath. _I can do this. She'd want me to do this._

"Can we make this?" He held it up for them to see. Lydia looked from the box to his face. "I-I mean, you don't have to- I can make something else, something you want- this-"

"Absolutely." Lydia stopped him. She reached up and took it from him. "Haven't had this in years."

"Really? You don't even need to do much you just-"

"Jackson." Lydia glared at him. He shut up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "This is fine."

"You're still making something else, right?" The man asked. Lydia looked like she was about to slap him, but Stiles nodded.

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?" He said. Jackson nodded. Lydia smiled at him. _She would have wanted this. This is okay. I hope._

 

* * *

 

 

Derek didn't really know what to say. He recognized the man from the hospital. He was with Stiles.  And now he was clutching his side and wincing in Derek's loft. Not how he planned on spending his night.

"You're Derek Hale." The man says. "You're that guy who's house-"

"I know who I am, thank you very much." He snaps. Nearly 14 years and peoples till talk about that. _What am I going to do? God, this was the worst time for Cora to have a mental breakdown._ The smell of blood was filling the room.

"Okay, great..." The man looked around. "Mind telling what the fuck just happened to me."

"You were bitten." He said angrily. "By a werewolf."

"What?"

"Why don't you ask your friend Stiles." Maybe he was a bit pissed. Or a lot pissed. Cora did have a right to be angry, after all. But so did Derek. Where had she been those six years she was gone? South America, yeah, but what had she been doing? It's been four years already and she hasn't told him.

"Stiles?" He removed his hand from his side.

 "The bite took." He could tell. He would have smelled the horrid black blood by now if it hadn't. "Don't worry, it'll heal soon." The man looked like he was in shock. Derek didn’t really care. He was just kind of pissed there was a new beta in his pack that of course he was going to be the one to look after. Cora may be Alpha, but she was not very good at it. _That was kind of mean_ he admitted _. But kind of true._

"Crap." The man muttered. "Stiles- I was supposed to be home for dinner."

"You his boyfriend?" Derek asked. The man coughed.

"What? No! He's my best friend. I have a girlfriend." The man said. Derek nodded. _I really didn't need to ask that._

"I should take you to him. You guys probably have a lot to discuss." Derek decided.

"Is he...I mean he was attacked-"

"He's not a werewolf. He just...knows about us."

"Oh." He followed Derek out of the loft and to the car. "My name's Scott, but the way."

"I didn't ask." He realized he was being an ass, but that's what he did best. Scott frowned at him and got into the passenger seat. “Don’t bleed on the seats.”

 

* * *

 

 

Derek followed Scott to the apartment. He could have found the right one on his own. He could smell Stiles under the scent of food coming from the apartment. He pushed Scott back, ignoring the younger man's complaints as he knocked on the door.

"Is that McCall? He's late." He didn't recognize the voice.

"Maybe. I'll be right back guys." That was Stiles. After a few seconds, the door opened.

Derek didn't know why, but the man's emotions always hit him like a ton of bricks. He could always block everyone else's, but he couldn't block these. The anxiety rolled off him in waves, as always. His hands were shaking, and he must have known that Derek noticed, because he cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Derek. What...what are you doing here?" He looked over his shoulder at Scott. "Scott?"

"We need to talk." He said, impatient. He could see people sitting at a small table. "Can I...come in?"

"Do you need to be invited in?" Stiles joked. Derek just glared at him, and he gulped. "Got it. Don't joke. Serious time." He glanced behind him. A woman with red hair raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Come in." He stepped aside.

Derek suddenly felt very uncomfortable, sanding in the small living room of the apartment. The red haired woman was glaring at him, and he didn't know why he felt so afraid, she was a human woman, and small too. But she kind of reminded him of his mother.

"More guests?" She asked. Stiles seemed kind of afraid of her too.

"Yeah uh..." He looked around. "You...stay here. I just need to talk to him and Scott for a second."  She narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

Stiles lead them to what Derek assumed was his room. No, _definitely_ his room. It smelled like him...and someone else. Someone he hadn't met. It was faint, but there.

"We have a problem." He grumbled. "Your idiot friend here got bitten. He's turning." Stiles' eyes widened.

"Scott? You..." Scott nodded.

"Is there some way we can... Undo it? I mean I didn't ask for this." The man asked. Stiles looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I read once in one of my books that you could undo it by killing the-" Stiles started. Derek growled. The pale man flinched.

"No."

"I didn't even-"

"Killing the alpha who turned you, right?" Derek guessed. Stiles nodded. "No. Not happening. Cora turned him." He explained. Stiles frowned.

"Oh. So not an option then."

"No."

"So what now?" Scott asked. Derek sighed.

"I guess...I guess you're pack now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this on the pages app on my iPad, and all the chapters looked way longer on there. I didn't think they were this short. though they do get longer.
> 
> I'll probably post another chapter later today. Maybe.


	5. i guess you're pack now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is kind of insensitive, as always.

_Hey red riding hood!" Stiles grinned when he heard Malia enter the apartment._

_"Red riding hood? Don't you think-" he was cut off by her mouth on his. His eyes were closed, but he could feel her hands slipping under his hoodie and roaming his stomach. He moaned._

_"Hey." She said, pulling back. He blinked at her._

_"Uh, hi to you too." He laughed, a little breathless. "What was that for?"_

_"Nothing.” She grinned at him. "You just look really sexy in your boxers and red hoodie."_

_"Sexy?" He raised an eyebrow. "This hoodie is too big on me. I'm swimming in it. And doubt my pale legs are-"_

_"Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes, plopping herself down on his lap. "You're adorable. The most attractive man I've ever met. So stop listing off everything you think is wrong and kiss me." He can't help but smile._

_"'As you wish.'" He was probably a huge nerd for quoting the princess bride at her (he doubted she remembered since she just watched it a few days ago), but she laughed and grabbed his face, kissing him._

There was a loud tapping sound beside him, and he jumped, whirling around to face whatever direction it came from.

Derek was standing at the window, the usual (he's technically only known the guy for a month, but he saw him enough to know it was the usual) scowl on his face. Stiles sighed, trying to calm the panic that always came with waking up. _I really fell asleep in my car? What if I had been driving?_ He opened the door, and Derek's expression softened.

"You haven't slept." He noted, stepping back as Stiles threw the back pack over his shoulder.

"Sleep isn't really my friend, Der-bear." _Good to know I still have my sarcasm and sense of humor along with this crippling depression._ Stiles thought.

"It's Derek." Derek grumbled. Stiles just smirked at him.

"Der-bear suits you."

"Don't change the subject." The werewolf growled. Stiles stopped walking towards campus and turned around.

"Okay, fine, jeez. No, I haven't really been sleeping. But that's a problem I've had for a while, so it's fine. But what's it to you anyway? I know your secret so you have to know every damn thing about me?" Derek narrowed his eyes.

"I need to talk to you about something." He said finally.

"I'm going to be late to my class. So if you could hurry it up that would be awesome."

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've been told." He rolled his eyes, hoping he didn't look as hurt as he felt. Not that it was really hurtful for someone he barely knew to call him that. But today wasn't exactly a good day for him, and he already felt shitty enough without a hot guy insulting him.

"It's about Scott. There are some things he needs to know."

"Then talk to Scott." He sighed, looking down at his watch. "I have to go. If you _really_ need to talk..." Stiles was reluctant to ask Derek to lunch, partially because it would feel too much like asking someone out, had he was nowhere near ready for that... But it looked like whatever Derek had to say was important. So he had to suck it up. For Scott. "Swing by around twelve. I don't have class then, so we can grab lunch or something."

"Okay." Derek nodded. "I'll see you then."

"Great."

"And you really should invest in a less fatal addiction."

"That's the point, Derek." He yelled, not even bothering to look back. He opened the doors and started to make his way through the sea of coffee guzzling, tired college zombies.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek doesn't like coffee shops. Not because of the coffee, because he drinks it every morning. And it's not the people either. Despite how popular places like Starbucks had become, there were never many people in them when Derek walked by.

It's was the couples. And maybe that made him a cynical, love-hating ass, but that was why he hated them. Even if there weren't that many people, there was at least one couple. Coffee shops were the stereotypical first date place to be. Cora tried to get him to ask out multiple people to this place, and now he was here, waiting impatiently for her mythology professor to arrive.

"Sir, are you sure you don't want to order? You have to if you want to-"

"He's almost here." He said, trying his best not to sound angry. But the girl looked kind of scared, so he doubted that it worked. "I, uh...I'm waiting for someone."

"Your boyfriend?" She wonders. Derek almost laughed.

"No. It's business." Technically true. The girl nodded, smiling a little.

"Well I'll be over there if you want to order." She said cheerfully. He thanked her, then resumed angrily staring out the window. Someone ordered a drink behind him. He didn't even need to look up to know Stiles had arrived. He had heard the familiar heartbeat the moment his car pulled up in the parking lot.

"You look like you just swallowed a lemon. What's the sour look for?" The teacher joked, sitting down across from him. Derek turned away from the window to face him. God, he looked tired. _And you care because?_ Part of him asked. _Because I don't want someone unstable knowing I'm a fucking werewolf and drawing a shit load of hunters to us, maybe?_ Another part of him snapped. Was he really arguing with himself? "Uh, you okay dude?"

"I could ask you the same question." Derek said finally. Stiles frowned.

"This is supposed to be about Scott. If you're going to try and bring up my mental status, I have papers to grade." Stiles snapped.

"No, it's about Scott." Derek decided it was best not to argue today. Stiles usually made dumb dog jokes when Derek tried talking to him, and he was probably in a bad mood right now if he hadn’t said any already. "He keeps trying to look for a way to reverse it. But so far, we haven't found one and it's three days until the full moon."

"Oh. Wow, really?"

"Yes. He either needs to learn some control or we lock him up somewhere for the night."

"Control?" Stiles seemed confused. "You can control when you wolf out?"

"Shift. Control when we shift, Stiles. This isn't some stupid TV show." He huffed. "And yes, we can. It's a bit easier for born werewolves like me and Cora, but it's not impossible."

"Oh." Stiles nodded. "So, if he doesn't get locked up and he doesn't learn control, then what happens?"

"He shifts. And whoever's near him could get hurt. Even die." Derek wasn't going to sugar coat it because Stiles looked like he was having a bad day. Cora was really the one that was supposed to give this speech. But lately it doesn't seem like she was handling the stress of being alpha, even thought there was only one person in her pack. He was considering asking her to give it up.

"So if he shifts in the apartment..."

"He could hurt you." Derek finished. "See the importance of this?"

"Yeah. Got it. Scott might turn into the big bad wolf." The tired man sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So what do we do?"

"We are not doing anything. You're too fragile to be left alone with a werewolf on the full moon. I will have to keep him with me and train him for a few days. Unless he'd rather be locked up."

"I am not a fragile-"

"Maybe not compared to other people." Derek stopped him. _Stiles was more lean than muscular. He was thin, but he's not sickly. There's muscle there_. He stopped before he lost his train of thought. He was _not_ thinking about his sister's teacher's body. No. "But we're a lot stronger than humans. And we lose control easily, especially on the full moon. Scott might not mean to hurt you, but on a full moon, what Scott wants really won't matter." He explained.

"Oh." He said simply.

"Yeah." Derek studied the man before him.

Stiles was quiet. His foot was hammering against the floor, the cup of coffee in his hand probably not as hot now as it was five minutes ago. He was staring at it. Or through it. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Probably remembering something. Derek could see the hand that wasn't holding the coffee was shaking a bit. "Stiles?" He asked softly. The man's head jerked up. He blinked a couple of times.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry, did you say something?"

"No, I just... You zoned out for a second."

"Sorry." He yawned. "I really didn't get enough sleep last night. Mythology is great and all, but even I will admit that it gets boring sometimes. Not really helping me stay awake." He took a drink from his coffee.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about you're sleeping habits and questionable health choices." Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles just rolled his eyes and continued to sip his coffee. Derek noticed that, despite this supposedly being Stiles' lunch hour, he hadn't actually gotten himself food.

"Yeah, well, I'm talking about it now."

"You should eat something. Maybe you'll feel better." He suggested. Stiles shook his head.

"I'm not that hungry." He mumbled. Derek frowned.

"I'm not going to have to force feed you a slice of that shity pound cake am I?" He wondered. Stiles glared at him.

"For someone who barely knows me, you care an awful lot about my health."

"I look out for my pack." He said automatically. Stiles' jaw dropped a little, his mouth opening a bit.

Derek hadn't thought about it. He never spent that much time around Stiles, and whatever time he did spend around him was mostly filled with researching ways to undo the bite, sarcastic remarks, and dumb puns. He had never really thought about Stiles being pack. He didn't even know if he wanted the annoying, babbling man to be part of the pack. But it was possible. There had been humans in his pack before. And he had no doubt that visiting werewolves would be able to smell Derek on him if they met him.

"I'm pack?" Stiles whispered.

"I guess you are." Derek was just as surprised as him. Stiles considered it for a moment.

"I thought...I thought packs were just werewolves. I didn't know-"

"There were humans in my old pack. Not every Hale was born a werewolf." He raised an eyebrow.

"R-right. Sorry. Forgot about that."

"We also had an emissary. Kind of like the pack doctor, I guess. Not entirely sure what they really are."

"Fine." Stiles said suddenly.

"What?"

"I'll eat something." He grumbled. Derek smiled a bit.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles watched Derek and Scott argue in the giant free space in Derek's loft.

The werewolf hadn't even bothered to put anything more than the necessities in there. He had a couch and a banged up coffee table. A kitchen with few plates, cups, and utensils. The fridge was almost overflowing with food (probably because of that werewolf metabolism). Aside from that, there was nothing. No TV, no anything. There was a fucking _hole_ in the wall that lead to more empty space. The stairs in the back apparently lead to Derek's room, and Cora had another room somewhere. The place was big, but empty, and not really that clean.

"...your method isn't working!" Scott yelled. Derek growled, eyes flashing an icy blue.

"That's because you aren't doing it correctly. He snapped. Stiles sighed, ignoring them and continuing to type away on his laptop. At least the place had great service.

"Bad Scott." He muttered. "Don't make big bad Derek get the roll of newspaper." It was a horrible joke, but he said it anyway.

"You think this is funny?" Derek growled at him. He looked up. Derek's eyes weren't glowing anymore, but he sounded just as angry.

"It was just a joke. Lighten up."

"Lighten up?" Derek was getting closer. Stiles didn't want to admit it, but he was kind of scaring him. "I can't _lighten up_ , Stiles. In case you haven't noticed, the full moon is tomorrow night. Your friend here still doesn't have control. And you have done _nothing_ to help this situation. All you do is make fucking shitty jokes and sit on your ass all day." Derek was right in front of him now.

"Look, I didn't mean-" he was cut off by the feeling of being thrown. His back hit the wall and he gasped. His heart was hammering against his rib cage, something sharp digging into both his wrists.  Stiles looked at Derek with wide eyes. The werewolf's eyes were blue, and Stiles could see fangs in his mouth.

"And Scott won't mean to attack you on a full moon, but that could still-"

"DEREK!" Scott roared. Derek turned to look at him, then blinked. He looked at Stiles for a second, and then his angry expression dropped. He let go, and Stiles dropped to the ground, heart still pounding. His breath was coming out short and shallow. _Not a panic attack. Not here_. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands on the floor.

He didn’t know why, he knew Derek wouldn’t really hurt him. Would he? Oh god, what if he did? What if he died?  What where _her_ last thoughts? Her last words? _Oh god, I can't remember them. I can't remember the last thing I said to her._

"I'm sorry." Derek said softly. "Stiles, that- I didn't mean to do that."

"Stiles? It's okay. You're okay." Scott's voice was close to him. It wasn't helping.

"Stiles?" _Just leave me alone. I can deal with it. I have to._ "What's happening to him?"

"Stiles come on man. It's okay. You're okay. Just breathe. Derek didn't mean it. You're fine." Scott continued to assure him. "Think happy things."

"Th-that's not-" he took another short, shallow breath. If he didn't calm down, he would pass out, he knew it. But he couldn't stop. Damn it. Calm down. "Very- _gasp_ \- helpful Sc-cotty."

"Think about M-"

"No." He managed to gasp out. He could _not_ think of her. She's what caused these. _Blaming your dead girlfriend for your fucked up life? How low can you get?_ His vision was spotting, he was aware that he was shaking, but he couldn't stop. _I'm pathetic. A panic attack because someone else yelled at me. What's wrong with me?_

"This...is this my fault?" Derek asked. _No no it's not your fault. It's mine._

"Maybe. If you hadn't fucking attacked him." Stiles held his breath. Lydia had said it worked before. Or maybe that was just her excuse for kissing him. Lydia always knows what to do.

_So what would she tell me now?_

Probably to get off his ass. To not worry about all the bad and focus on all the good.

He took a breath and opened his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek felt incredibly guilty. And the feeling didn't fade. Not when Stiles got up, still trembling, and assured them that he was fine. Not when he smiled and told Derek it was okay. Not when he told Derek it wasn't his fault. Because it was his fault. He was so worked up about Scott learning control that he forgot he needed to control himself. What is Scott hadn't stopped him? What if he'd killed him. He couldn't kill someone else. Paige was...no. He couldn't. The thought of killing the pale, lanky man made him sick.

Stiles was still shaking when he went back to the couch. He picked his laptop off the floor and set it on his lap. There were five small cuts on each of his wrists from where Derek's claws had dug into them. Scott was glaring at him, almost blocking the pale man, like he would attack if Derek so much as looked at him. He wasn't sure if they could see the guilt on his face.

"Woah." Cora stopped at the door. Derek hadn't heard her come up. "I can see the tension."

"Cora." Derek warned. He watched her take in the room.

"Uh...hey, Mr. Stilinski?" She raised an eyebrow and gave Derek a look. _'What's he doing here?'_ He jerked his chin towards Scott. "Training with my big brother?"

"Not going very well." Stiles informed her. "But it's kind of entertaining."

"I see." She nodded. Derek frowned.

"You know what, how about you just chain me up for now? And then we can spend all of next month on this control thing." Scott said finally. Stiles started taping away on his laptop again.

"Come on man, you're the only one keeping the neighbors sane! I don't want to deal with old Mrs. Greenberg at three in the morning." Stiles whined.

"I know, but-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever." He closed the computer and got up. "I guess I'll deal with it myself."

"Stiles-" Derek started.

"I'm fine. Just...don't let my best friend wolf out on anyone, alright?" He nodded. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter was just kinda filler, but I needed them to spend more time together. Two weeks had passed between this chapter and the last, in which their 'pack' got together to discuss things like pack dynamics and some werewolf anatomy. Derek is really tired of the dog jokes.


	6. See Me Bare My Teeth for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia has become a wise old woman and Derek and Cora have some things they need to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title is from the song '[Who are you, really?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ljNvk8MIQg)' by Mikky Ekko. It's currently my favorite song and I thought it made sense, considering some of the events in this chapter.

Stiles sat at the kitchen counter, disinfectant stinging the cuts on his wrists. The TV was on in the living room, playing some dumb show that Kira always watched, but Stiles never really cared about. Dumb vampire shows and shitty love triangles.

_Wait. Did vampires exist?_

He filed that under 'questions to ask later'. If Derek ever spoke to him again.

"Stiles? Are you- oh my god." Lydia rushed through the door before he had a chance to react.

"Lydia, what-"

"Please tell me you didn't hurt yourself. Please." She begged, reaching for his wrists.

"Woah, hey, no, of course not." He promised. She grabbed his hands and inspected them. Lydia looked up at him after a moment and raised an eyebrow.

"Nails? Someone's getting kinky in bed."

"I love how that's the first thing that pops into your mind."  He joked. She grabbed the roll of white gauze and started to wrap it around his wrist. He winced.

"How did you get these?"

"An angry werewolf attacked me." He deadpanned. She gave him a look. _I told her the truth. Oh well._

"Seriously?"

"I..." He really couldn't come up with a good lie. Which was kind of shocking, for him. "Lydia, I can't tell you." He said finally. She opened her mouth to speak. "And before you say anything, I promise I will tell you when I can, and I'm fine, and it's not dangerous or anything, it's just not my secret to tell. Okay? But it's nothing bad and the _second_ I can tell you, you know I will." He assured her. She looked skeptical for a moment, but then she huffed.

"Fine." She finished wrapping his wrists and let them drop beside him. "How are you?"

"A little sleep deprived and running on a few slices of bread and multiple cups of coffee, as usual." He informed her.

"And a few cigarettes, I’m assuming.” He fidgeted. “I knew it. You have got to stop that." She scolded him, going to the fridge. "I'm not going to have you die on me, Stilinski."

"I'm not going to die." _Maybe._ He sighed, jumping off the stool and going to stand behind her.

As instructed, he made sure his fridge had more food. He cooked at least once a week, and he managed to stop a panic attack. It was near the end, but he still stopped it, which was progress.

"At least try to stop."

"You are not the first person to say that to me today." He picked up an apple and tossed it into the air. He felt...weird. Today was one of those days where he didn't really feel anything, and it could end well or end terribly. It started out as a bad day, but now he was just kind of...blah. He felt like the anxiety was just waiting to consume him, but it hadn't actually done it yet.

"I can imagine Scott says that to you every day, since not only are you his best friend and he wants you alive and healthy, but he's also studying to become a _doctor_."

"Surgeon.” He corrected. “It's irony. We could be a sitcom or something." He noted. "And it wasn't Scott."

"Not funny." She rolled her eyes. Stiles took a bite of the apple and watched her pull out various ingredients.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you food." She looked back at him. "You said all you had was a few slices of bread, right?"

"Yeah..." He bit his lip. _Why is it so impossible to keep things from Lydia?_ Maybe because she could kill him with her perfect, manicured hands.

"What?" Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, you're a great liar Stiles, you can't keep shit from me."

"Derek Hale kind of bought them for me...at a coffee shop." She turned around and put her hands on her hips, a small smile on her face.

"You went out with Derek Hale and all you ate was a piece of bread?" She thought for a moment. "And he told you to quit, didn't he?"

"What? No! No, I didn't go on a date with him. I am nowhere _near_ ready to date, Lydia. It's been two months, Jesus." He ran a hand through his hair. "We were..." _Come on, brain_. "Talking about his sister. She’s in one of my classes. She's kind of a genius."

"Uh huh." She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. Not a date." She handed him a sandwich.

"Peanut butter and jelly." He grinned, taking a bite. "I'm not in the third grade anymore, Lyds."

"Don't call me that." She fished her phone out of her giant purse and unlocked it. "Jackson and I have something to tell you."

"Can't be good if it involves your doofus fiancé." He scoffed. She glared at him. "Okay, jeez. I'm kidding, he's not so bad."

"I know, I'm marrying him."

"So what is it?" She smirked. "What?"

"We'll tell you and Scott tomorrow night." Tomorrow night...the full moon. His smile dropped.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. You promised we'd go out to dinner a few weeks ago, remember?" He had, hadn't he? Stiles frowned.

"Scott's not going to be able to go."

"Why not?" _Well, Lydia, tomorrow nights the full moon, and our friend Scotty just happened to get himself turned into a werewolf._

"He's pulling an all-nighter at Kira's." he lied. "Yeah, you know, studying for the semester finals and...other things. Tonight too." Scott had said he was staying at the loft to make sure the chains were strong enough.

"Oh." She nodded. "Fine. Just you then." She frowned.

"Really feeling the love, Lydia." He gave a hollow laugh. Yeah, today wasn't going to end well.

The anxiety that had been lying just under the surface finally broke through, though Stiles didn't really know why. His blah mood just got a bit worse. And he hated it. He hated that it happened for no reason, and that he just felt like crying and hiding under his blanket. He didn't deserve this...did he? _Of course you do._

_You killed your girlfriend._

"Stiles?" Lydia asked softly. He blinked, looking around. _Had I been staring at the fridge all this time?_

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. Never mind." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Soon?"

"Yeah." She threw her purse over her shoulder. "Since Scott can't stay, I will."

"Lydia, I'm fine. I don't need a baby sitter. It's not like I'm going to off myself in the middle of-"

"Don't even joke about that." She snapped. He shut up. "I know you wouldn't...I just don't like you being alone." He opened his mouth, planning on snapping at her that he was a twenty five year old man, not a toddler, and he could handle being alone. _She's just worried about you. Don't be a dick_. He sighed.

"You're the most amazing woman ever, you know that?"

"Of course." She smiled, heading for the door. "Now eat some real food for dinner, or I'm cutting off your balls and feeding them to Prada 2.0."

"Hey!"

 

* * *

 

 

_Stiles was sitting on his bed, trying to decide whether he should call Malia or deal with the bad day himself. Malia was quickly becoming a great cure for his bad days. Days when he felt like he just wanted to die, like it was just too much, days when he couldn't even get out of bed and Scott would pound on his door begging him to ‘try just try man come on’._

_His cellphone rang on his desk, and he smiled, thinking she was calling him. She always kind of knew when he needed her._

_"Hello?"_

_"Stiles?" It wasn't Malia. Stiles' smile dropped when he heard the pain in his best friend's voice._

_"Scott? What is it?" He sat up._

_"I-can you come to my house- I can't-" he choked on a sob. Stiles felt panic start to rise in him. What happened?_

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Allison- she just- Stiles she's gone." Scott sobbed._

_"Gone? What do you mean-"_

_"Please." Scott whispered. Stiles nodded._

_"Okay buddy, hang on. I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?" Scott whimpered, then hung up. Stiles rushed to his car, almost breaking a few laws on the way to Scott's house. When he got out, he saw Scott's father talking to Melissa in the doorway. He started towards the house._

_"It's bad, Stiles." Mrs. McCall shook her head. Stiles nodded, going too Scott's room._

_Scott stood up and threw himself in Stiles' arms the second he got there. The teenager thought about making some sort of joke, but judging by the sobs coming from Scott and the wet spot in his shoulder, he shouldn't._

_"What happened?"_

_"Stiles- she's- Allison-" Scott looked up. "She's dead."_

"ALLISON!" Stiles screamed, bolting out of bed. His legs must've tangled in his sheets, because he landed face first on the carpet. "NO. No no no _Allison_." The sadness and panic were still there, the room spinning. "No no no. Not dead. _No_." He whispered. The door opened then, and he looked up.

 

"You're okay." Lydia whispered, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame. "It's okay." He probably looked crazy, muttering no over and over again, Lydia running his fingers through his hair. He probably was crazy. No wonder they sent him to be institutionalized.

"Thanks." He muttered after a while.

"No problem." She said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "Now let go of me. You're really sweaty and it's kind of gross." He gave her a weak laugh and sat up.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the almost-full moon outside the window and his green alarm clock. He never realized how tired Lydia looked. Maybe it was just because she woke up at three in the morning to comfort him. Of maybe she was just amazing at hiding it. "What did you dream about?"

"I thought it was kind of obvious." He leaned against the side of his bed and closed his eyes.

"I have nightmares about it too, sometimes." Lydia admitted, wrapping her arms around her legs. "She was my best friend. It's eight years later and I still miss her."

"We all do."

"Doesn't matter if it's eight years or eight weeks. You never stop missing them, Stiles. You just learn how to deal with the fact that they're gone." She looked at him.

"When did you become a wise old woman?" He joked. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Way to ruin the moment, Stilinski." She got up and stretched. "I can stay, if you like. I don't think Jackson would mind." She grinned at him. "You're practically my little brother."

"I..." He hated how small he sounded. Hated that he needed someone. But he did. "Please." He whispered. She nodded. He crawled back into bed, not bothering to pull the covers back up. She laid down next to him, grabbing his hand. He gripped it so tightly, he was afraid he was hurting her.

"You'll be okay." She said finally. "Maybe not now, or soon.but eventually."

 

* * *

 

 

 Derek stared at his phone. Honestly, he had been staring at it for a few minutes now. More specifically, the name on his phone.

**Batman**

Thought it really should have said Stiles, because that's who put the number in his phone. It was the day of the full moon, and Stiles had grabbed Derek's phone out of his hand and put in his number. He also put in Scott's under **Robin** , Which Derek actually laughed at. Cora had given him a weird look, which he had chosen to ignore because no there is no way my sister's teacher is cute. _Except he kind of was._ Not that it mattered.

"Ask him out already." Cora sighed, bored expression on her face.

"What?"

"Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." She collapsed down on the couch next to him. "You've had that love-sick-puppy look in your eyes for a few days now."

"I'm not love sick. He's not even that attractive, Stiles is...annoying, and too talkative, and... He never stops moving, he's always zoning out when I try to talk to him, I'm fucking irritated if anything."

"Uh huh." Cora smirked. " _Sure_. Keep saying that."

" _Cora_ -"

"I don't get what the big deal is. So you like him, so _what_? Is it because he's my teacher? Because he's pack now? Seriously Derek, what is it, because-"

"Just stop, Cora!" He yelled, jumping up. "It's not because of any of those stupid ass reasons. It's because I. Don't. Like. Him." He spat. Cora just glared at him.

"Oh really? I thought maybe it was because you're to fucking scared to date a human since Pai-"

"SHUT UP." He growled, tackling her. She snarled at him, eyes glowing red, teeth bared. She slashed her claws across his chest.  He howled in pain, attempting to block her. But she was his alpha, and despite being smaller and less muscular than him, she was still stronger. In the back of his mind, he knew that the only reason he was so unreasonably angry was the full moon. But he couldn't stop it.

She moved so that she was on top of him, claws digging into his arms. He shoved at her, claws barely missing her face, before she let out a loud roar that made him flinch. He stilled, and they both shifted back to human. She blinked, sitting up, and then looked down at her hands, dripping with his blood from the deep gashes she gave him during their fight. She'd actually gotten him pretty good, and from the trickle of blood coming out the corner of his mouth, he guessed she'd dug her claws pretty deep into his stomach.

"Oh my god." She whispered. "Derek, I- I didn't mean- I'm so sorry." She got off him, and he sat up, trying to hide just how much pain he was in.

"It's fine." He managed, leaning against the wall. There was a dent in it from where she hit it when he tackled her. "I've...had worse. I'll heal." He gasped in pain when he pressed his hand to his stomach.

"It'll take longer, cause I- you're my beta. Here." She pressed her hand to his side, black veins starting up her arms.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes I do." There was guilt laced in her features. "God, Derek, I....I hurt you."

"I attacked you." He said once he hurt a bit less. She dropped her hand.

"I provoked you." She bit her lip. "I wasn't going to bring her up. I didn't mean it. I know that-"

"It's okay." He assured her, brushing back her hair. He never really liked showing real emotion, but this was his sister. She was all he had left. "I know you didn't. But I shouldn't have gotten worked over something that happened 16 years ago."

"It still changed you, didn't it?" She noted. "I wasn't... I was only five. I didn't get what happened. I just remember that my big brother came home one day and he was...different. Your eyes are blue, Derek, and mom always told us that-"

"I know."  _Mom always told us not to trust werewolves with blue eyes_. "I remember that. You stayed away from me for a few weeks."

"Sorry about that." She smiled a little. "Like I said, I was too young to understand what you did. But I get it now, and I know how much it hurt you, and I shouldn't've said anything. Your reaction was totally okay, even if you say it isn't. Mine however..."she sighed.

"You were protecting yourself."

"Dude, look at you! I fucking shredded my Second! My brother! The only family I have left. What kind of an alpha am I? I-"

"Cora, stop." He moved his hand from his stomach. The wounds were healing. Slowly and painfully, but they were healed enough that Derek didn't really mind it. He got up, wincing a bit, them offered Cora a hand. "Let's just...enough with the emotional vomit, okay?" She laughed, taking his hand and jumping up.

"Yeah, I think I've spilled about enough for the next few months." He rolled his eyes at her.

"Let's just fix the couch and forget it happen, okay?"

"Okay." She nodded.

When they were done fixing the couch, and the two of me decided to just ignore the dent in the wall and the claw mark in the couch, Derek pulled out his new laptop and suggested they find something to watch on netflix to get their mind of the moon until Scott arrived. "One condition." Cora whispered.

"What?"

"Just...don't lie to me, alright? Be honest. I swear I won't say anything."

"What is it?"

"Seriously. Just tell me. I know you don't trust people easily, and it's hard for you, hell, even me, to get to close to anyone, but I see how you are with him, and maybe it’s not that kind of like, but he is somehow pack now, and I think he might be your-"

"Maybe." He said softly, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

"Maybe?"

"I don't know why. I don't know how. But maybe." He nodded. That seemed to be a good enough answer for her.

 

* * *

 

 

The full moon was going appear from behind the clouds soon. Derek looked back and forth from the window to his phone, panic slowly melting into anger and frustration. Where the hell was Scott? He was supposed to be there already. Since before sunset, even. But it was now 7, and being that it was winter, the sun set much sooner. So he should have been there already. If not, then Stiles should have come by already to inform him that they found an effective way of locking him up without Derek's help. But neither of those things had happened.

"I'm gonna go now." Cora announced. "I'll just be at the old house. Some...unfinished business, I guess.

"Don't be gone too long." He glanced out the window again. "I have a feeling we're going to need an alpha."

"They're not here?

"No. And it's way too close for them to be driving right now, if they are." She nodded.

"Well, I've got I phone if you need anything. If they're trouble, I'll haul ass over here, yeah?"

"See you later." He didn't even glance back as she left.

When someone finally pulled up in the parking lot (almost an hour later), he felt relieved. The relief was short lived when he heard the frantic heartbeat of a human rushing up the steps. The accompanying smell of smoke and anxiety told him exactly who it was before they got to the door. Stiles almost barreled right into Derek.

"Der- Derek." He panted. The werewolf almost thought it was a panic attack, and he really wasn't the best one to help with that. But after a few seconds, he realized Stiles was just out of breath. The younger man paused, squinting at the ground as he gulped in air. "It-it's Scott. He shifted." He said finally. "God, I need more exercise."

"He shifted? Where? Where is he?"

"I don't know." Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "We were about to leave and then- I don’t know what happened, he just kind of started screaming, and then his eyes started glowing gold, I think? I thought they were supposed to be blue, but maybe- not important. Right." He shook his head. "He just fucking bolted out the window after that. I-I couldn't stop him Derek- I'm sorry I-he just-" he couldn't tell if Stiles was panicking or at a loss for words, so he tried his best to sound reassuring.

"Cora and I will find him. It'll be okay. Hopefully he went out to the forest to look for his alpha, so we won't have to search for very long."

"I'm coming with you." Stiles said.

"No, you're not. I told you already, you're too fragile-"

"Fragile my ass." He rolled his eyes. "Look, I get what you said about me being human and weaker than you guys, but Scott is my _best friend_. He wouldn't hurt me. And I want to help."

"No." He said forcefully. "You can't go. The end."

"You're not my fucking owner. You can't just expect me to 'sit and stay' like some well-trained animal. I'm going, and you don't have to like it." Stiles snapped, crossing his arms. Derek glared at him. They were losing time, standing there arguing, but there was no way Derek was letting Stiles out there with a newly turned werewolf on a full moon. There could be more than just one out there, despite it being Hale Pack territory.

"I rather not have to carry you to the hospital again. It's hasn't even been a full month since the last time. Your father, who, if I remember correctly, is the fucking _sheriff_ , would probably be a bit suspicious as to why I've carried his son into the ER twice in the same month."

"I'm not a little kid." Stiles sounded as if he'd had this conversation before. Derek could picture a younger, less tired looking version of the man before him, begging his father let him in on a few of his cases. "I can take care of myself. Like I said, you can't stop me. I'm going whether you like it or not."

_Are you always this difficult? How do they put up with you?_

"If you move from this spot, I will rip your throat out. With my teeth." Derek threatened. Stiles didn't seem fazed.

"I'm going. You can't stop me."

_Persistent little fuck_.

 "Fine." Derek growled. He figured he might as well not get too worked up over it, since he could shift and then do some _real_ damage other than just claw marks on his wrists. So Stiles hopped into the passenger seat of the car, practically buzzing with excitement, though he still wore a worried expression on his face

"You seem awfully happy that your best friend is missing."

"I'm not _happy_." He glared at him. "You're so lucky I don't have my baseball bat right now." He didn't know what that meant.

Once they arrived at the entrance of the preserve, Derek pulled out his phone and called Cora. Stiles started toward the mass of trees, not even bothering to grab a flashlight.

"Stiles!" He hissed. "Get back here. You don't-"

"Relax Sourwolf, I've been here plenty of times." Stiles assured.

"No, you-"

"Hello?" Cora answered. Derek looked between the phone and Stiles' disappearing form before hurrying after him.

"Cora. Scott's missing. He shifted and Stiles said he just took off." Derek explained.

"You're here already?" She guessed.

"Yeah. Just...we'll meet you by the house."

"Be careful."

"I will." He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. He almost ran Stiles over, not realizing the teacher had stopped to stare at a cleared spot between the trees.

There was a large tree than had been cut off at the base. The trees around it were at least fifteen feet away, surrounding it like a circle. They had lost all their leaves somehow, even though the other trees’ had only just started to turn orange. The whole thing was eerie, and it gave Derek a bad feeling. "Stiles?" He glanced at him.

Stiles was crying. He was trembling, but other than the occasional sniffle, he wasn't making a sound, and it only added to Derek's uneasy feeling. He put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. The man jumped.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"What happened?" Stiles reached up and whipped his face.

"N-nothing." He lied. Derek knew he was lying. But he didn't push it. "I just...dirt, or something..." He shook his head, pointedly avoiding looking at the clear space again. "Let's go find my best friend." Just as he said it, a bone chilling howl ripped through the air. Stiles’ eyes widened.

"Hunters." Derek whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles had still been trying to erase the image of Malia's bloodied body lying on the ground when Derek had grabbed him and taken off running. He could hardly keep up. His heart was hammering against his rib cage, breathing loud and labored. He felt like his chest was going to burst open, and his legs hurt like hell. But if Derek was worried, then it had to be for a reason, so he tried his best. They finally stopped at an old, burnt house. Stiles collapsed against one of the charred walls, sure that if he took at least one more step, his heart really would burst.

"Come on." Derek grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He leaned against the older man, trying to catch his breath. "We have to find them before the hunters do."

"Wh-" he can't even get the words out. _This is so embarrassing_ , he thought as he gulped in air. After a few moments, he looked up. "Hunters?" He managed to gasp out. Derek frowned.

"I'm carrying you next time."

"Dude, no way are you-"

"This is not up for discussion." His tone shut him up. "There are hunters out here- more than any other night. And werewolves may be strong, but we're not fucking invincible. There're more ways to kill us than you would think. So let's just find Scott and Cora and find somewhere to keep him until morning." Stiles just nodded. "If we have to run, I'm carrying you."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I messed with the time lines a bit. Cora is supposed to be the same age as Stiles, but I made her four years younger here. Some of the tings that happened in the show have happened already, like !!!!SPOILERS IF YOU HAVENT CAUGHT UP: Kate being dead, Peter being sent away to Eichen House, the Darach, and of course, some of the deaths (Allison, Heather...).
> 
> Other things, like some stuff from season one, are happening now.


	7. Not falling for another one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is going to stop Stiles from doing what he wants. Not even broody, muscular betas that threaten to rip his throat out.
> 
> with their teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is still in denial.

Derek tackled the injured beta to the ground before he had the chance to do any really damage to Stiles.  Scott wasn't really putting up much of a fight, with the arrow sticking out his back and all. Or maybe he just wasn't as violent as most bitten wolves. After a while, he stopped struggling, and Derek removed his hand from the guy's mouth.

"There are hunters in the woods." Cora informed him, crouching down and flashing her alpha red eyes at him. Scott flinched. "I need you to shift back, okay?" Out of the corner of Derek's eye, he saw Stiles inch forward.

"Stiles, stay there. We don't know what he'd do to you."

"You said I was pack now, right?" He crouched down beside them. "He's my best friend. Let me help."

"Stiles-"

"You wouldn't hurt me, right Scott?" He asked. The beta growled. Stiles didn't even blink. "Come on man, we gotta get out of here."

"That's not going to-"

"Think about Allison." He suggested.

Derek didn't know who Allison was, but Scott seemed to, and he calmed down instantly. He let out a whine, then blinked a couple of time, slowly shifting back to human. Stiles grinned. _How the hell did he do that?_ "Better?"

"Stiles, what-" Scott groaned. "My shoulder."

"The hunters are close by." Cora informed them. "Come on, let's go to Deaton."

"The vet that he used to work for?" Stiles wondered.

"Yes." Derek grunted, hauling the injured werewolf to his feet as they started towards his car. Without warning, a bullet sliced through the air, and his arm erupted in pain. He let out a pained roar, wiping around to face the direction it came from. He was sure he'd shifted when it made contact.

"Derek?!" Stiles squeaked.

"Let’s go!" Cora yelled as another bullet hit the tree beside them.

Derek could feel the wolfsbane from the bullet start to make its way through his veins. They must have found a way to put more in their bullets, because this one was acting a lot faster that usual. They stopped when they reached the car, and Derek groaned, sitting down in the passenger seat. Stiles appeared from behind the tree line a minute later, sweating and out of breath. Derek saw Cora glance down worriedly at him.

"He's been shot with Wolfsbane." Cora told him. Derek closed his eyes and grit his teeth against the pain.

"That stuff really works?" Scott asked, sounding a bit surprised.

"Of course it does." Cora snapped.

"What happens if you don't get the Wolfsbane out of his system?" Stiles sounded close. His voice was coming from behind him, and Derek realized that they had all gotten in the car. Cora was now in the driver’s seat, and Scott and Stiles where in the back seats. He heard his sister turn the key and start the car.

"He dies a slow and painful death."

"What?!" Stiles' voice squeaked. "But- you-you're not going to let him, r-right? Derek- he can't _die_. I can't- he's your brother. He's gonna be okay right? I-" Stiles’ quickening heartbeat was painful to his ears. He couldn't control his senses, which usually didn't happen until hours after being inflected, so the hunters had definitely stepped up their game.

"He won't." Cora assured him. She sounded sure of it. Derek hoped she was right.

After a few minutes (or longer, Derek wasn't really sure at this point) of total silence, Stiles made a pained noise in the back of his throat.

" _What_?" Derek growled, the aconite making him more irritable than usual. _Whatever was wrong with him couldn't be worse than me getting shot with Wolfsbane, so he needs to shut up._

"My face hurts." He whined. "It's so unfair you guys can heal like that."

"Stop complaining. You're not the one slowly dying from a Wolfsbane bullet to the arm." Derek snapped. Stiles shut up. Derek felt kind of guilty for snapping at him, but seriously, his scraycjes were nothing.

"You're not dying." Cora whispered, low enough that only Derek could hear.

"I might be."

"No, you're not. Stop thinking like that. Deaton will be there and he'll fix you up and you're going to be _fine_. Now get some rest." She glared at him for a second before turning her eyes back to the road.

The clock on the dashboard read three o'clock. It hadn't felt like they'd been gone that long, but maybe that was the adrenalin of trying to escape hunters, or hunting down the newly turned beta. It's wasn't long before they could hear Stiles' soft snores accompanying Derek’s small whimpers of pain. Cora sped up a bit, casting worrying glances at him and assuring him that he'd be fine.

He hoped that it wouldn't be too late.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles didn't really know what to say when a pale, sweating, _dying_ Derek threw the bone saw down on the metal table. Cora and Scott had left to try and find Deaton, leaving him with Derek to watch after him. But the Wolfsbane was taking its toll, and not only did the werewolf look and smell like death, but black veins had started coming from the raised, irritated bullet wound on his arm. Stiles pushed down the panic and the urge to vomit and picked up the saw.

He pressed the button for a second before the panic started to take over. "Oh my god." He looked away, pressing his hand to his mouth. "What if you _bleed_ to death?"

"It'll heal." Derek grunted, stripping off his shirt. The werewolf grabbed a blue piece of elastic and started tying it around his bicep, above where the black veins ended. "If it works."

"But Scott and Cora-" Derek just glared at him for a second. "Uh...look." Stiles paused, swallowing. "I don’t-I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?" Derek snapped, still trying to tie it.

"Well...because the cutting through the flesh, the sawing through the bone, and especially the _blood_." He tried not sound whiny, but come on.  Derek just asked him to cut off the guy's fucking _arm_.

"You faint at the sight of blood?!" Derek asked, clearly irritated.

"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off _arm_!"

Derek sighed. "Alight, fine. How about this; either you cut off my arm, or I'm going to cut off your head." Derek tried. Stiles was a bit annoyed. How did Derek expect him to do this?

"Okay, you know what, I'm _so_ not buying any of your threats anymo-" Derek grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards him with a low growl. "Oh my god, okay, alright! Bought, sold, totally, I'll do it!" He squeaked. "I'll do it okay?"

Derek got even paler for a second, turning to lean over the edge of the table. "What? Wh-what are you doing?" Stiles stuttered, glancing from the hand on his shirt to his face.

Derek threw up what looked like black blood all over the floor, and Stiles jumped back once the grip on his shirt was released. " _Holy god_ , what the _hell_ is that?" He asked warily.

"My body's trying to heal itself." Derek panted.

"Well it's not doing a very good job of it." Stiles could barely keep in the bile slowly rising up his throat.

"Now. You gotta do it now."

Stiles looked back at the saw on the table. _I'm gonna be sick_. "Look, honestly, I don't think I can-"

"Just do it!" Derek yelled, his arm spread out on the table.

 "Oh god, okay, okay." He picked it up and pressed the button again. It buzzed to life, the sound filling the room. He pressed the blade to Derek's arm, just above the blue elastic, wishing he could just close his eyes and be anywhere but here. "Oh god. Okay. Alright, here we go."

He was about to press the on switch when he heard Scott calling his name. "Stiles? Derek?" _Oh thank god._

"Scott?" His voice cracked. Scott and Cora burst into the room. She took a moment to survey the scene before rushing over.

"What the hell are you doing?!" She snapped. Stiles couldn't help but laugh a bit, despite his panic, because _fuck I was about to chop off Derek's arm thank god you came back._

"You just saved me from a lifetime of nightmares." He tried to joke.

"Did you get him?" Derek wondered.

"No. But we found this." Scott dug a bullet out of his pocket and handed it to the shirtless man.

"In the woods, buried in the tree." Cora said. Derek held it up to his face, trying to examine it. His eyes were unfocused.

 "What are you gonna do with it?" Stiles was curious how much good _another_ bullet would do.

"I'm gonna..." Derek swayed, stepping back a bit. "I'm gonna..." He dropped the bullet, and a second later, Derek's limp body fell to the ground with a thud.

"No no no..." Scott swore. Cora went to grab the bullet, which had fallen into a drain.

"Wake him up!" She growled. Scott searched frantically around the room for something they could use, which left Stiles to wake up Derek. He straddled his hips, not really thinking about it, and shouted his name.

"Derek?!" He slapped his face a bit, trying to rouse him. "Derek, come on, wake up!" He turned his head to face Cora. "What the hell are we going to do?" The panic was threatening to consume him. _Come on, stay focused. Can’t panic now. Someone could die._

_Derek could die._

"I don't know! I can't reach it!" She sounded on the edge of hysterics.

"He's not waking up!"

"Come on!" Cora roared at the drain, and Scott looked at a loss.

"I think he's dying." Stiles' voice trembled when he said it, and there was no way of holding back the panic now. "I think he's dead."

"Just hold on." Scott looked like he had an idea, and he pushed Cora aside. Stiles turned his attention back to the dying (or dead?) man before him. God, he was so pale. He heard Scott's shouts of victory and the background and made a fist, deciding his weak attempts at waking him weren't enough.

"Please don't kill me for this." He mumbled. He raised his fist, then punched Derek in the jaw. Derek's eyes flew open, and Stiles jumped back, a stream of profanity escaping his mouth.

"Ow, god! Fuck! Ouch."

"Give me..." Derek didn't seem to be at all interested in Stiles' pain, not that he would be, with him dying and all. Stile's fist would probably be bruised for weeks though. Cora tossed him the bullet as he got off the floor, and bit off the top. All three of them watched as he dumped the contents on the table. He pulled a lighter out of Stiles' pocket-

"Hey!" _How did he know?_

-and lit it on fire. Then he grabbed it off the table and ground the burning contents into the bullet wound. Derek screamed, back against the wall, then falling on the floor. They couldn't do more than stare at him as his screams of agony died down and the hole in his arm disappeared, along with the creepy black veins. There were a few moments of silence before Stiles blurted;

"That...was awesome." They all looked at him. "Yes!" he threw a fist in the air. Scott rolled his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked as Derek stood up, a bit shaky.

"You mean aside from the agonizing pain?" He snapped.

"Guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health." Cora smirked.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was grateful that the screeching halt of the car woke him up before he could start having a nightmare. No way was he going through that shit with Derek right there. He'd think he was insane.

They had stopped at Scott and Stiles' apartment. Derek had driven them, something about being up for over twenty-four hours and not being stable enough to drive. Though really, they should be telling Derek that, because Stiles was pretty sure he wasn't okay after the wolfsbane and the almost dying and everything. But Derek insisted. So he let him. He was kind of tired, actually, hence the napping in the car. Scott was already out of the car and heading up when Stiles yawned and sat up. Derek offered him a hand to help him up, but he shook his head.

"I think I'll sleep here, thanks." He muttered.

"This is my car." Derek frowned. "Come on."

"My legs hurt." He grumbled. Derek gave him a look.

"Then I'll carry you in."

"Dude, enough. I'd rather not be carried everywhere like a goddamn damsel in distress, thank you very much." Stiles settled back into the seats. "And didn't you just, you know, almost _die_? You should be resting or…something.”

"I wasn't-" Derek snapped his jaw shut. "Fine. Whatever. Sleep in my car, I don't care." Stiles gaped at him. He hadn't expected Derek to actually say yes. But he did. Derek slammed the door shut, leaving him alone. Stiles was too tired to wonder where the werewolf was going. He closed his eyes and leaned to the side, sleep coming over him just a few minutes after his head his the seat.

_Stiles hadn't slept that day. He didn't know what time it was, just that the sun had risen and it was morning. He was staring at the ceiling, unable to produce any more tears. He'd run dry._

_It was the day after. He had come home in a daze, his body  going through the steps of getting ready for bed without his mind knowing. He didn't remember how he got home, or how he undead up in his room. He just remembered seeing the empty bed and it finally hit him. He had fallen to floor, a loud wail escaping his mouth. He didn't care who heard him. She was dead. Malia was dead._

_He heard a knock on the door. He glanced at the cell phone on his nightstand. It had been ring all morning, but he didn't have the energy or motivation to turn it off. So he let it ring. He lost count of how many people called._

_"Stiles?!" Scott called. "Come on man, open up! Everyone's worried about you!" His best friend called, voice a little panicked. Stiles felt awful. He was worrying them._

_He still couldn't get up. His stomach growled, body begging for food thought his mind didn't want any._

_"Stiles, I know it's rough. I've been there. Just talk to us man, please." His phone had started ringing again. He blinked at the ceiling._

_He didn't know how much time had passed since Scott stopped trying to get him to answer. The room was brighter when his father's pained voice came from the front door of the apartment._

_"Kiddo? I-" his father paused. "I hope that you're okay. I hope this is just you being too upset to open the door instead of something else." Stiles hadn't thought it was possible for his heart to break even more. But he was pretty sure it's already shattered pieces just turned to dust. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes, and he rolled over to bury his face in the mattress._

_I'm so sorry._

_When he turned around again, it had started getting dark. For the first time in a while, his eyes started to droop with exhaustion. He fought to stay awake. Stiles didn't want toclose his eyes. He didn't want to see her._

_He must've fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was waking up screaming in total darkness. He cried for hours._

_Someone finally figured out how to get into the apartment the next day. Lydia, of all people._

_"Get up." She'd commanded him. He'd closed his eyes against the worry clear on her face._

_"I can't." He croaked, voice hoarse from the screaming and crying of the previous night._

_"Yes you can. Stiles Stilinski, you are going to get off your pale ass and get some help or I will kill you myself."_

_"I'm just..." He rolled on his side so that his back faced her. "I'm tired." He knew he sounded broken, and he hated it, but it was true. He was broken. He'd been breaking for a long time, and now the one person who could put him back together was the person that shattered him._

When Stiles woke up a few hours later, a scream ready to rip through his throat, he found himself in his room, staring up at his familiar ceiling. The scream died on his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek didn't see the pair again until a week later. He was at the grocery store (he didn't know why he always felt awkward in there, as if it was uncommon for a werewolf to need food or toilet paper.) when he heard their familiar voices coming from a few isles down.

"How many boxes of this do you think I'm going to buy you, Stiles?"

"As many as I want because you love me." Stiles replied smugly.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to buy you, what, fifty boxes of Mac and cheese??? Why? It's not even possible for a human to consume this much by the time these expire. They're going to go bad."

" _Please_ Scott. Look, we don't have to get this many, okay? But can we just get like, half? Half of what's in the cart?"

"I'm a werewolf and I don't think I could eat this much." _What are these two dumbasses arguing about?_ He wondered, moving into the next isle _. Macaroni and Cheese? Are all of their arguments this stupid?_

"Don't make me use this."

"What? Your cellphone? You gonna call my mom?"

"No, but I can hit you over the head with it."

"Oh my god."

"Fine, then I'll buy this time."

"You bought last time!"

"Are we getting the fucking Mac and cheese or not?!" Stiles sounded pissed.

"Fine, whatever! _Geez_." Derek snickered. That had been kind of amusing.

"What? What's that face for?"

"Someone's here."

"Someone's always here, it's a _grocery store_." He heard them start to make their way over. _Well, so much for a normal, quiet day._ Scott appeared at the beginning of the isle, eyebrows raised.

"Derek?"

"Wow." Stiles whispered.

"What are you doing here?" Well that was a stupid question.

"Did you think I didn't buy food or something? That it just magically appeared in my fridge?" Derek raised an eyebrow at them.

"You just...you were always so mysterious and shit, I couldn't picture you doing...normal people things." Stiles muttered.

"Wow." He grabbed Cora's favorite cereal off the shelf and dumped it in the basket he had. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

"Fruity pebbles?"

"They're for Cora." He grumbled.

"Uh huh."

"I'm gonna go pay. Kira wants to go out tonight, so we've gotta go soon." Scott said. Stiles nodded.

"Okay. I'll be right there." Stiles shook his head as Scott walked towards the front of the store, cart half filled with boxes of Mac and cheese, the other half with regular food. "You know he hasn't seen Star Wars yet? Dumbass."

"Okay, even I've seen Star Wars, and I don't watch television." Derek chuckled.

He didn't know why it was so easy to be around Stiles now. When he first met him, he didn't want to get within ten feet of the nervous, flailing, babbling man. Now, after just a little over a month, Stiles' presence had become...not exactly comforting, but familiar. He wasn't even going to try and figure out why. There were too many complicated things in his life, and this...friendship, he guessed...didn't need to be one of them.

"See? Even you've seen it. Thank god." His smile fell a bit. "Are you...okay? After everything last week? It was kind of scary, with you know, the puking black blood and screaming on the floor and everything. And I was kind of an ass, sleeping in your car and-"

"I'm fine. Don't worry." He assured him. The teacher nodded, examining the boxes of cereal. Stiles pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. Derek could see a strange, tan patch near his elbow, and he raised an eyebrow. Stiles glanced at him. "What?"

"Trying to quit?" Derek gestured towards the patch on his arm. Was it just his imagination, or did Stiles blush a little bit?

"Yeah, well..." Stiles sighed. "Thought maybe I'd stick around a bit longer. See how this whole werewolf thing plays out. But then I'm gone, you just watch." Derek didn't know how he could joke about things like that. He looked up to the front of the store. Scott was paying for all their stuff. _Does he know? That his best friend wants to die?_

"I'd rather not watch you off yourself." Derek frowned.

"Aw, sourwolf. You care." Stiles stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Don't call me that."

"It's either Der-bear or sourwolf, deal with it." He grinned. "I gotta go."

"I'll see you next full moon then."

"See ya!" He watched the man turn and walk to the register where Scott was waiting. And yes, maybe he kind of glanced (stared) at his ass while he walked away. But it's not like it was his fault that Stiles had decided to wear tight jeans that day. And he looked great in them.

Derek shook his head. _I'm_ not _falling for another human. Especially not him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: big, dramatic scene, in which Lydia finds out why Stiles looks so guilty all the time, his dad helps him through some shit, and hunters are huge assholes.


	8. we are Damaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confesses something he didn't mean to, and everyone's pretty shocked. Also, hunters are fucking stupid, and can't tell the difference between a normal person going for a walk or a werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't update as much or at all next week, because of midterms and everything, so I'm posting two chapters today.

"What's this?" Lydia asked, pulling back from the hug. She lifted Stiles' arm and grinned. "Finally decide to quit?"

"Why is everyone asking me that?" He muttered, stepping into her house.

Lydia and Jackson had moved in together a few years ago. They hadn't been engaged at the time, but they were already practically married. And they were loaded. Lydia ran this online tutoring site that was insanely successful, and Jackson...well, he didn't really know what Jackson did. Four years of kind-of-friendship, and he never really bothered to ask what Jackson did. Maybe he was following in his father's footsteps and was still studying to be a lawyer.

He followed her to the kitchen, where Jackson was sitting in his pajamas eating soup.

"Jackson, I told you to get dressed." Lydia scolded him, crossing her arms over her chest. He frowned, holding up the bowl.

"I'm _sick_. I don't _want_ to get dressed." He glanced at him. "It's just Stilinski, it's not like it's anybody important." Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, which was childish, but whatever. Jackson stuck his tongue out back anyway.

"You two are ridiculous." Lydia rolled her eyes. "I'm marrying a five year old."

"Ha." Stiles chuckled.

"You're worse. You're two." Jackson's turn to laugh. "Jackson, just get dressed. Stiles, I need to talk to you." Stiles watched as Jackson rolled his eyes and went up to his room. Lydia grabbed a coke can out of the fridge.

"You want to talk to me? You said you wanted to watch a movie."

"What's up with you and Derek Hale?" She whirled around to face him, leaning back against the counter.

"What?"

"I saw him. A week ago. When I was _supposed_ to be sleeping over and you just disappeared on me. I saw him leave the apartment. So what's up?"

"You waited a week to tell me this?" Stiles didn't want to talk about this. Not now. He couldn't.

"Are you sleeping with him?" She wondered. Stiles' jaw dropped.

"What- no! No I'm not _sleeping with him_ , Jesus! It's been two fucking months, you think I could just- Lydia, what-"

"Sure _looks_ like you were, since I saw him _sneaking_ out of your apartment in the middle of the night. I wouldn't be mad, but-"

"Why the hell would you be mad?!" Stiles was kind of pissed now. Lydia was a great friend and everything, but she didn't need to know every detail about his life. And he was _not_ sleeping with Derek hale. Not even sharing a bed with the guy. He couldn't. _I don't deserve it_. "You don't need to know everything about me."

"I'm just trying to help you-"

"I don't fucking need help." He seethed.

"Yes, you do. I know it hasn't been that long since Malia died, but you-"

"Don't."

"No! I will. We're going to talk about this. Every time someone brings her up, you get this look on your face. And it's not just sadness, Stiles...you look guilty. You look like you freaking murdered her. It's not your fault she died you know. It's not. Your. _Fault_." She said the last part slowly, enunciating every word like she was talking to a toddler.

"YES IT IS!" He screamed. "It's my fault, okay?! I was being an ass and decided to wonder in the fucking woods all day and she went out to find me. I didn't even take my phone with me. I was stupid. I still am! God..." He ran a hand through his hair. "...I killed her."

Lydia was staring at him like he just slapped her, eyes wide. He could see the pity in her eyes. And he couldn't take it. He couldn't. He realized that he was crying, and his whole body was shaking, and _fuck this is not how today was supposed to go_. He turned around to see Jackson staring at him from the top of the stairs. "What?" He hissed.

"Stiles-" Lydia started. But he didn't want to talk to her anymore. He needed to get out.

"Stilinski _wait_ -" even Jackson called after him. He slammed the door shut and ran to his car, the cold burning his nose and throat. He saw Lydia start towards him as he slammed the car door shut. _Fuck fuck fuck. This isn't happening_. Not now. He started the car and made his way back to the apartment.

This was not supposed to happen. He didn't want to tell anybody. Today was supposed to be a good day what the fuck happened?

His phone started ringing, and he debated whether or not he should answer it. After it started ringing a second time, he glanced at it.

 _Dad_.

"Dad?" He croaked. His voice cracked, and tears were streaming down his face. _I'm pathetic_.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" No doubt his dad could hear the panic in his voice.

"Dad I- can I come over?"

"Yeah, sure. You're welcome anytime, you know that Kiddo." His dad paused. "What happened?"

"I can't-" _can't breathe_. No no no...worst time for a panic attack. Not in the middle of the road. "I'll- dad - I need-"

"Calm down, it's okay."

"I-I'll call you back." He gasped. He pulled over into a nearby gas station and got out of the car, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He put his hands on his knees, gasping for air. _Shit_.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked. They didn't sound familiar. He shook his head, sitting down to lean against his car. _Just breathe just breathe just breathe. Stop freaking out fuck_. "Do you need help?" He shook his head no again.

"J-just-" _gasp_ "-go."

"Are you sure?" Yes. He nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles lifted the welcome mat with shaking hands, searching for the key. "Come on..." He muttered. Dad always left a key under the mat. He always said it was too obvious, so no one but family friends would know to look there.

 "Looking for this?" His dad asked. Stiles jumped, then turned around. His dad was holding the key to the house up, smiling at him.

"Dad." Fresh tears bloomed in his eyes _. I haven't seen him in a whole month. How have I not seen my dad in a whole month?!_ He thought. Before he knew it, his father's arms were around his shaking frame.

"It's okay. You're okay." He soothed.

Stiles remembered when his mother died. His first panic attack. His first nightmare. It was years later, and he still clung to his father like the first time it happened. He felt like a child, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. "...just breathe, Stiles. You're okay. It'll be okay."

"I killed her." He sobbed. "It's all my fault."

"Woah, hey." His father pulled back. "What are you talking about?"

"She- she was in woods b-because of me! And then she-"

"You didn't kill Malia." The sherif said firmly. "The coyotes did. It was just unlucky for her to stumble upon a pack of them when she did, that's all. Just because she was out looking for you doesn't mean it's your fault she died."

"But she- I should have-"

 

"You were having a bad day and you stormed out without warning, yes. But it's _not your fault_." He wanted desperately for Stiles to believe it, that much was obvious. So Stiles would try.

"How do you do it?" He whispered. His father sighed, smiling sadly at him.

"Come on. Let's get you inside."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek stared up at the ceiling, not really sure what he was going to do with himself. Cora wasn’t home. She said she needed to go buy something. He didn't feel like calling Scott because really, they weren't exactly friends, just reluctant pack mates. He could call Stiles, but he still didn't know exactly how he felt about the man, and he wasn't sure Stiles would answer him if he did.

So he let his mind wander, too lazy to get out of bed and do something productive. Of course, whenever he did that, his mind didn't exactly go to a very cheery place.

He remembered the day it happened. The fire that killed almost his entire family. He'd been at school with Laura when he felt...something. Something bad had happened, he knew it. He had gotten up from his seat in last period, not bothering to ask the teacher -Harris, at the time- if he could be excused or use the bathroom. He had just grabbed his bag and gone into the hallway. And Laura had been there, and her eyes flashed red, and Derek had felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs because _if her eyes are red that means_ -

He didn't want to think about that day. It was so many years ago, but it still hurt. It would never stop hurting. It felt more like he was missing a limb. He'd find himself turning to talk to someone and remember that they weren't there, like trying to pick up something only to remember that you lost that arm. You learn to live without it, but you'll always feel its loss.

 _You've gone soft on me, little bro._ Laura's voice teased in his head. He smiled a bit, despite the sadness that picked at his heart.

"Derek! Dude, it's noon, get your wolfy ass down here!" Cora called from the kitchen.

"May I remind you that your ass is also wolfy." He grumbled, legs dragging like lead. Cora smirked at him. The smell of the food finally hit him, and he was overwhelmed with memories of home. When his mother would make chocolate chip waffles on the weekends, his little brothers and sisters would almost kill themselves tripping down the stairs, and Laura would wrestle him out of bed and kick his ass down the stairs. It almost brought tears to his eyes, and maybe it's stupid, crying over food, but fuck, he hasn't had these in almost fifteen years.

"Derek?" Cora asked softly. He realized his mouth was hanging open. "I tried cooking and, uh, what do ya know, I can!" She joked. He smiled.

"Chocolate chip waffles." He breathed, grabbed the plate she handed him. "You remember?"

"I was six, not an infant. Of course. One of the only things I remember clearly."

Derek felt the guilt settle in his chest, still as strong as all those years ago. He wondered if Laura knew. If Cora knew. That the reason their family had burned in that fire was because Derek had been stupid enough to fall for a hunter. To tell her about them.

Kate was long dead, and had been for several years now. But the guilt, like everything else, had stuck with him. "You okay? You kind of zoned out for a second." Cora asked.

"I'm fine." He forced a smile onto his face. "There are great."

"I tried." She shrugged, taking a large bite out of them. "Not as good as mom's but then again, I _was_ six."

"They're perfect, Cora." He assured her. She beamed at him.

His phone started shrieking from the other side of the room, startling them both. He jumped up, quickly chewing the piece of waffle in his mouth, and answered the phone, not bothering to check who it was. "Hello?"

"Derek!" Stiles panted. Any calm Derek felt that morning vanished at the panic clear in the teacher's voice.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" Cora got up and started towards him.

"You know those-" a hiss of pain "- hunters that shot you a week ago?"

"What's going on?"

"I think-" a grunt "-I think they think I'm a werewolf."

"Stiles, where are you?"

"Running for my life, at the moment."

" _Stiles_." Derek growled. There was a whimper, and Derek knew Stiles was hurt. How bad, he didn't know.

"The preserve, running along the road." Stiles whispered. They must have gotten close to him. "Derek, hurry.

"I'll get there soon. Can you stay on the phone?" He asked, running up the stairs to grab his shirt. Behind him, Cora was slipping on shoes

"I think so." A yelp.

"Are you hurt?"

"I can handle it." The words sounded clipped. Forced.

"Now's not the time to lie, Stiles. Are. You. Hurt?"

"Yes." He finally admitted.

"You're..." He forced himself to remain calm but Christ, it was _Stiles_ , and somehow he had managed to make Derek care about him in the little time that he'd known him. Kind of annoying, babbling, fragile, _human_ Stiles, and he was about to fall prey to hunters. Ruthless hunters that would do anything to find out where the alpha was. "You're not seriously hurt, are you?"

"Worried I'll check out before I promised?" A pained chuckle. "Sorry buddy, I'm not going anywhere. You're going to be seeing this handsome face around for a while." Derek started the car as Cora hopped into the passenger seat.

"Of course not." He smiled a bit. "You didn't answer the question."

"I'll live, Derek." He grunted. Then he yelped, and Derek heard the loud crack that was the phone hitting the pavement.

"Stiles?!" Derek shouted. He was sure he broke a few laws on his way there. He was just a few minutes away from the preserve. Nothing bad would happen in five minutes. It couldn't. _No one else is going to die because of me._

"Don't worry sourwolf." Stiles' weak voice came thought the phone, and he let go the breath he didn't know he was holding. "I'm...okay."

"What happened?"

"Don't worry." Stiles repeated. Suddenly, the sound of his feet hitting the pavement stopped, and Derek heard him take a deep breath. There was a rustling of leaves through the phone.

"Stiles? Keep talking, come on."

"I'm okay." He breathed. "I'm near the gate."

"Are they following you?"

"I think they're close. Derek-"

"I'm here." He could see the gates from here. He slammed the break petal and parked the car, almost ripping the door off its hinges. Cora followed, and he stopped at the gate. The smell of Stiles' blood hit him like a slap in the face, and he growled.

"Derek, calm down. We can find him." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You can hear him, can't you? Concentrate."

He nodded and closed his eyes. He got past the howling wind and the sounds of the animals moving in the woods. It was deathly quiet for a moment, and the. He heard it. A heartbeat, fast and loud.

"He's close. Come on." They didn't have to go very far to find him. They could hear his soft swears after a minute, and Derek almost grabbed him and twirled him in the air when he saw him.

But he didn't. Because Stiles was a lot more injured than he led on. Of course he was, he was Stiles.

The man had a gash on his forehead that was leaking blood down the side of his face. There was a bruise forming on his cheek. The worst of the injuries were on his leg, where two arrows were sticking out of it. One in his thigh, one in his calf. Stiles looked up when he heard a twig snap, and Derek didn't miss the full body flinch. The man's heart slowed to a less dangerous pace when he saw them.

"Derek!"

"No time to talk. Let's get out of here before the hunters find you." Derek mumbled, trying to hold back the rage that surged in him. They hurt a member of his pack. They hurt the human. They were going to have to pay. He shook his head and tried his best to be gentle as his lifted the injured man off the ground.

"OW!" Stiles yelled as Derek's arm brushed one of the arrows. The werewolf just growled, low and threatening. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and rested his head on his chest. His heart was pounding, Derek could feel it on the hand he had pressed against Stiles' back. They rushed to the car, the sound of footfall somewhere behind them. Derek got into the back with Stiles, despite his protests.

"Cora, we're going to the hospital."

"No!" Stiles started to flail, trying to get out of Derek's arms.

"What do you mean, _no_? Stiles, I don't know if you noticed, but you've been shot. Twice. And I'm pretty sure you have a concussion."

"No no _no_." He muttered, twisting around the face Derek with a gasp of pain. "Derek-"

"Stiles, calm down."

"I- I can't-" Stiles looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth, looking around with wide eyes. "Fuck - Derek, we can't- no hospital. I- Derek - can't-" Stiles finally gasped out. _A panic attack._

"Stiles, just breathe okay?" He tried. _He just said he couldn't, idiot_. He'd heard Scott say that before though. Stiles just shook his head, which caused more blood to leak out of the gash on the side, and panicked some more. "You're okay. You'll be fine. Just...we won't take you to the hospital okay?" Cora cast a worried glance back at them.

"Where then?" She asked. Stiles was gripping the top of one of seats, his knuckles white. He couldn't tell if it was from pain or panic. He didn't know how to help him.

"Deaton?" Derek tried. Stiles nodded. He was shaking like a leaf, and Derek did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms around Stiles a pulled him flush against his chest. The man's heart was hammering against his chest, and Derek took a deep breath. "Just breathe. It'll be okay."

"Dad can't- he can't know." Stiles finally managed to whisper, breathing evening out a bit.

"Your dad? The sheriff?"

"Y-yeah." Stiles took a deep breath. "He's got too much to deal with already. I don't want him worrying about me on top of it."

"Okay." Derek nodded. Stiles leaned back, staring at him for a second before letting out an awkward chuckle.

"Well, that was embarrassing." He laughed. Derek raised an eyebrow, and Stiles leaned his head back against the other side of the car, wincing. "You're probably right." He said, paling.

"About what?"

"I think I have a concussion." He slurred. And then he passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles awoke when a searing pain shot throughout his leg. He bolted up with a scream.

"Stiles! It's okay! You're at the vet!" Someone shouted. He coughed, and the screaming stopped. He looked around, trying to figure out what happened. Derek was gripping his shoulders, and Cora was behind him, arms crossed.  He could feel something tugging at his leg, and the pain was slowly becoming less noticeable. He knew they were blocking whatever was happening.

"The vet?" He asked dumbly, wincing at the pain in his head. _One hell of a migraine._

"You didn't want to go to the hospital, remember? Something about your dad?"

And then it hit him.

Literally, Derek slapped him in the face. He hadn't realized he closed his eyes, but he opened them to find Derek's eyes clouded with worry.

"Right." He mumbled. There was another tugging sensation in his leg, and despite Derek's attempts to keep him from seeing it. He shifted, peering around Derek's large frame. The werewolf's hands tightened, but that didn't stop him from seeing Deaton pull a fucking _arrow_ out of his leg, the feathers dripping blood onto his bare leg and _when did they take my pants off?_ "I'm gonna be sick." He moaned, leaning his forehead against Derek's shoulder.

A bucket was thrust under his chin (before he puked all over himself and Derek, thank god), and he emptied what was his breakfast (which wasn't much, really) into it. Someone was rubbing small circles on his back, and he didn't know whether to find it comforting or creepy. Because the hand wasn't small like Cora's, and Deaton was still working on his leg, so the gentle touch somehow belonged to Derek. And maybe he didn't mind as much as he should've, but he didn't want to think about that now.

"Nothing major was damaged, so you'll be a let to walk. You could use a cane, if it helps." Deaton says, and yup, Stiles closed his eyes again.

"...passing out, you should check his head."

"I know what I'm doing, Derek."

"Well do it faster." And then cold hands were prodding at his forehead, and he winced.

"I'm fine." he mumbled.

"Stiles, you are not _fine_. Look at you! You're concussed, and bleeding, and what the fuck were you doing out in the woods all by yourself?!" Derek growled. Stiles early lifted his head to glare at him, hissing in pain when Deaton poked at the gash.

"Sorry I don’t tell you were I'm going 24/7, _mom_. I just needed to alone, alright?"

 "Can't find someplace better than the woods?”

"Just leave it alone." Stiles groaned.

"No! I won't leave it alone. What if they caught you? Do you know what hunters do to get information? They torture people. What if- what if they-"

"Don't worry. I wouldn't have said anything if they did." He said. Or he thought he said it. His words were kind of jumbled up right now. Derek frowned at him, and there goes that worry again. He blinked a couple of times, and then someone shook him.

"...stay awake, okay? I'm not mad, I promise." Derek? "Hey, uh...how about you tell me a story?"

"Like... About me?"

"Yes. Anything." Derek urged him.

"Okay... Did I ever tell you about the time I went to a gay bar?" He whispered.

"You're gay?" Derek raised an eyebrow, and Stiles let out a small chuckle. Technically, no. Didn't mean he didn't like dudes.

"Not really."

"That's not really an answer."

"We were there helping our friend Danny." He mumbled. "And Scott kept getting free drinks. Pissed me off, like, am I not attractive to gay guys? Was it my hair? I kinda had a buzz cut back then." He thought for a moment. "There was this other time, we were going to a lacrosse meet, and Scott was really sick so we had to pull over, except the coach wouldn't. That man was a bastard. I screamed at him and everything, and he still wouldn't. So I went up to this kid who was like, really carsick, and just started talking about vomit." Stiles chuckled. "Ah, Jared. I was also kidnapped by a fucking psychopath, did I ever tell you that? This was like, all in high school."

"No. What happened?"

"Dude locked us at the station and killed a couple of deputies. Knocked me out cold. Shot Scott. It was bad. He killed half the 2006 swim team and their coach cause he couldn't swim or some shit." That brought up painful memories. Hours in the school councilor's office. "But, whatever. If you're going through hell, keep going." He slurred the words together.

"My sister used to say that a lot." Deaton told him. Stiles forced his eyes to stay open a bit longer. Deaton smiled at him. "You'll be okay. Mild concussion. You lost quite a bit of blood, so be careful." He turned to Derek. "You should take him home now. And give him these."

"What's that?" Maybe it took him a while, because of the fog in his mind, but he realized that a mild concussion and a bit of blood loss usually didn't end with him slurring words together and a lightheaded feeling. No, usually he was left with a killer migraine. He glanced down at the hand Derek had resting on his now patched up leg. Black veins were running up his arms. "Woah! What the hell is that?"

"Werewolves, along with the ability to heal themselves, have the ability to take the pain from others. It didn't heal you, but I didn't have anything to numb the pain while I took out the arrows, so he took the pain." Deaton explained. Stiles frowned. His head was still mushy. But Derek took his hand away, so it wasn't as bad.

"Does it hurt you?" He asked quietly.

"Just for a second. Don't worry" Derek shook his head, then lifted him gently off the table. Stiles hesitantly put a bit of weight on his right leg. When he didn't fall to the floor with crippling pain, he decided that he was okay to walk. Deaton had wrapped gauze around his head, and he thought maybe he looked a bit ridiculous, but whatever.

"Getting sick of saving me, sourwolf?" He grinned. Derek just grunted.

"Sick of getting your blood all over my clothes."

"Send me the dry cleaning bill."

 

Neither of them noticed Cora giving them weird looks as they entered the car.


	9. Mates?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora explains some pack dynamics and Stiles smells like coffee.

"That was a roar, right?" Scott asked, turning to his best friend. Stiles was squinting at him

"Yeah, technically..." He admitted

"Well what did it sound like to you?"

"...like a cat being choked to death, Scott." Stiles said a bit reluctantly. Scott frowned at him.

"You're no help."

"I try." Stiles shrugged, rubbing at the healing gash on his forehead.

It's been a week since the incident, and Scott had, for lack of a better term, lost his shit when he came through the door. Stiles had been dragged in by Derek, high on werewolf healing mojo and pain meds. He had watched their screaming match for fifteen minutes before calling them both idiots and promptly passing the fuck out on the couch.

"That was just pathetic." Cora teased.

"No werewolf will hear you from across town with a roar like that, if you could even call it a roar." Derek rolled his eyes. "Try again."

"You can do it Scotty." Stiles cheered. Scott nodded, shaking his head a bit.

"Okay." The man muttered.

"Try not to think of it as growling or...whatever." Stiles suggested. He could feel Derek's eyes in him, but he ignored it. "Try thinking of it like...you're calling someone." He didn't know if that would really work, but none of the wolves corrected him. He felt a weird sense of pride at that. _I know something_.

Derek had turned to him once before for research. Something small, but still, it was something Stiles could do that they couldn't. Derek because he didn't have the patience, Cora because she didn't know where to look (Cora admitted that Stiles actually knew more than her about a number of things when it came to mythology). It made him feel...useful. Like he was worth something.

Scott closed his eyes, and balled his fists. When he opened them again, they were glowing golden. _I thought werewolves had blue eyes_. Scott opened his mouth a let out a roar.

Stiles actually had to cover his ears because _shit that's loud_. Derek just smiled a bit, as if his ear drums _weren't_ being assaulted right now. Stiles dropped his hands, feeling...something...in his heart. It was like... He didn't know. It felt like Scott was calling him. He couldn't really explain it. He frowned, and Scott closed him mouth.

"How was that?"

"Awesome!" Stiles grinned, deciding he'd figure it out later. "Dude, that was sick."

"What are you, fifteen?" Derek rolled his eyes.

"You know Der, one day those pretty green eyes of yours are just gonna roll off your fucking head, an I'm going to laugh." He retorted. Derek raised an eyebrow (Stiles has decided that Derek's eyebrows are their own language, and he could communicate pretty much anything with them and Stiles would understand) and smirked.

"My pretty green eyes?" Stiles felt something he hadn't had in a long time creep up his cheeks. Was he blushing? Oh god, he was, wasn't he? No no no, he's not blushing. It'll stop. He's just hot or something.

"Yes. It's a compliment, Derek, ever heard of those?"

"He's too ugly to get those." Cora offered. Derek glared at her. And the awkwardness Stiles felt vanished.

"You're just jealous."

"Yeah, you're right. Wish I was as ugly as you so I wouldn't get cat called every fucking day."

"You're terrible."

"You know you love me." She flashed him a grin, and Derek beamed back at her, and Stiles got the feeling that this is what it used to be like. Before the fire, before his family was burned alive, this is what Derek must've been like, back when he was a teenager. When he could still come down from his room to a loving family that understood, and not charred walls and burnt furniture.

Stiles wondered if he was different. He wondered if people who knew him before thought he was different now. If anyone longed for him to crack as many jokes and play as many pranks as he used to. For him to be the Stiles he used to be. He found himself thinking of Scott, and Lydia, and hell, even Jackson. Did they want him to be the old Stiles? Was he not himself anymore? Would he ever be that way again? He didn't think he was that different, he'd been depressed most of his life. Maybe he'd just been better at hiding it before. Or maybe she had just made him better.

"Stiles?" Scott called, snapping him out of his stupor. "You spaced out for a bit there, man."

"Sorry." He somehow managed to put a smile on his face. "I was just remembering something."

"You okay?" Scott asked. And that when Stiles realized that no, his leg was actually throbbing a bit, and every beat of his heart sent a sharp pain throughout it. But it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He just had to get home and take the pain meds he got Melissa to prescribe him (he made her swear not to tell his dad).

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Kinda tired though." He yawned for emphasis. It was, after all, nearing one in the morning, and he had a class to teach. "Last day before Christmas break."

"A whole month off of college." Cora sighed behind him. "Good thing I'll still be seeing my favorite teacher around, right Stilinski?"

"Honestly, I kind of forgot you were my student." He laughed. "Derek was kinda right when he first met me, I'm like what, three years older than you?"

"Four." She corrected. "And yeah. You don't really feel like my teacher." She admitted.

"I've actually got plans this Christmas." Scott said sheepishly. "Kira and I were planning on going to New York to visit her parents for a few weeks." He glanced at Stiles as he said it.

Stiles felt guilty that the only reason Scott would be a bit reluctant to go is because of him. He wanted Scott to have a good time, he deserved it.

"Dude, when were you going to tell me? That's awesome!" Stiles smiled at him. The hesitance his best friend had on his face vanished, and he beamed at him.

"I kinda forgot, what with getting turned into a werewolf and all. I didn't remember until she called and reminded me to pack a few hours ago."

"You'd forget your head if she didn't call you and remind you to take it with you every morning." Scott smacked him lightly on the head for that. "Ow, hey kidding!"

"So she's like your mate?" Cora asked. Stiles gaped at her.

He knew wolves had mates. Maybe not for life, like the common myth, but for long periods time. He didn't know werewolves had mates.

"My mate?"

"You know, like bonded. For life." She said it like they were supposed to know.

Was it just Stiles' imagination, or did Derek look uncomfortable?

 

* * *

 

 

Derek could smell the pain coming off Stiles, but he hadn't mentioned it. Stiles seemed to be doing okay, and maybe it he could just find a way to sneak over there and place a hand on him, then maybe he could-

"Derek, could you please explain the concepts of mates to these to morons?" Cora asked. He frowned.

"What?" He asked dumbly.

"Right. Of course. You've never actually had a mate." She have him a knowing look before turning back to the other two. "You know, like when you marry someone. Except more than that. I- mom and dad were mates. It's like an emotional bond. And you can't just say 'hey, wanna be my mate?' Because it just happens. It can happen without you knowing. And it's for life, or until one of them dies."

"What would happen if Kira and Scott got married?" Stiles asked, curiosity clear on his face. Derek thought it made him look younger, and he didn't know how he felt about that. He was already six years older than Stiles.

"Well, she'd have to meet me first." Cora explained. Scott frowned.

"Why?"

"Because marrying you would essentially make her pack. And I can't let anyone into the pack that I don't approve of."

"How would that make her pack?"

"Because marriage is supposed to be two souls becoming one or something." Stiles said quietly. He looked lost in thought. After a moment, he seemed to snap out of it. "Right?"

"Exactly. It's like mates. Less binding, but still similar."

"Oh." Scott said. "Well, uh...could you maybe meet her after Christmas?"

The reality of what he was saying hit Stiles first, though that was expected.

"SCOTT!" Stiles flailed, almost falling out of the stool he was sitting on, eyes wide with excitement. "You're gonna propose?!"

"I was planning to-"

"You're such fucking sap! You're planning on doing it on that trip, aren't you?!" Scott's blush told all.

Derek had quickly learned how to read the two new pack members, mostly because their emotions were clear on their face, where Cora and him had always been taught to mask it when around others. Stiles was a bit harder, his expression completely blank sometimes, though he was clearly thinking about something.

"I could." Cora smiled a little, and Derek couldn't help but relax at the sight. He'd found himself letting his guard down more and more around them.

"Aw no." Stiles pouted. "Then I wouldn't be the token human anymore."

"You've had that job for what, two months?"

"Shut up." Stiles hopped off the counter, and Derek didn't miss the wince when his injured leg hit the floor. "I'm gonna go, okay? Can't be dead on my feet for the last classes of the year."

"I'll go with you." Derek blurted. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him.

"Uh...okay." Derek opened the door for him, and then started towards the elevator. Stiles headed for the stairs.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking?"

"But you're hurt." Derek clarified. "You shouldn't be walking on that leg."

"It doesn't hurt."

"I can tell when you're lying, you know. Your heartbeat sped up." He stepped closer. "Plus the pain's practically coming off you in waves."

"Fucking werewolves." He muttered, limping over to the elevator. Stiles sighed and coursed his arms over his chest, glaring from Derek to the buttons on the side of the elevator, their numbers fading from age and overuse. After they got to the parking lot, Stiles cleared his throat. "H-how did you know? That...it hurts, I mean."

"You know how they say dogs can smell people's emotions, or when someone is sick, like cancer?"

"Yeah."

"It's like that. Takes a while to figure out how to tell the difference between the emotions, but we can still do it."

"What's pain smell like?" Stiles asked, yawning. Derek started the car.

"I can't really describe it. Sour? I've never bad to explain it before." Derek shrugged.

"You can just tell?"

"Yes." Where was he getting at with this? Stiles leaned back in the seat, watching the trees and building whir past them.

"What do I smell like?" He asked finally.

"Well, smoke mostly. Not as much now, since I'm guessing you haven't...in a while.

"Just a week." Stiles informed him.

"Now...coffee. And pills. And books and spearmint gum." Derek admitted.

"Dude."

"Dont call me dude. I'm thirty one years old, I'm not a dude."

"Okay fine, sourwolf."

"That really not any better." Derek sighed. Stiles laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles woke up with a gasp, it was six in the morning. The sun was shining through the curtains, and Stiles' clothes were drenched in sweat, even though it was freezing. And that when it hit him. _I didn't wake up screaming_. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up to see the sun outside, or when his screams weren't filling his ears.

When he was with Malia.

He was still terrified out of his mind, but he wasn't screaming. Lydia would call that improvement. Stiles didn't know what to think. He felt a little more rested than he had since Malia left, another thing he didn't know what to think about.

_You don't deserve it. You need to be punished. You killed her. You let her go out alone. How could you do that?_

He shook his head.

Last school day of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty short chapter, and the next one will be too. As of right now, Derek and Stiles have known each other for a month an a half. I just need a little more time to pass. Then some serious shit happens, and Derek finds out more about Stiles. I might actually post the next chapter tomorrow.


	10. Missed you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas break has started for everyone, and Scott has time off from work.  
> Stiles goes home and Cora is probably planning something, whether Derek likes it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I think this line's mostly filler."  
> _ Willow Rosenberg
> 
> relevant.

The day went by quicker than Stiles expected. The Semester final he cooked up didn't seem to terribly difficult. The students may have groaned and complained, but no one seemed to stare down at the test in confusion, and Cora smiled at him. Or maybe that was just Cora. Being a mythical creature herself, maybe she was cheating a bit.

He hadn't had time to talk to her or Derek after class, since he was driving Kira and Scott to the airport. Kira was nice, funny, and kind of clumsy. They'd met her halfway through junior year, but it had taken a while for Scott and her to get together. They had been dancing around each other for months, and then Allison died, and Scott felt guilty for a while. But they did finally make it official. And now they were probably going to get married and have little werewolf babies and live happily ever after like they both deserve.

"Stiles, I feel bad! I don't want you to be alone on the holidays!" Kira said from the backseat. Stiles smiled at her from the rear view mirror.

"Kira, it's _okay_. I won't be alone, I've got my dad around. And I'll be staying with Lydia and Jackson for a few days."

"Don't forget Derek." Scott reminded him.

"Like I'd willingly spend time with Derek. Broody, angry, silent Derek." Stiles rolled his eyes. "I think he'd rather rip my throat out than spend time with me."

"Aw, come on, he likes you." Scott assured him. Stiles shook his head, parking the car. He tried not to let himself hope that what Scott said was true.

"He tolerates me. I'm the only-" he shut his mouth and glanced at Kira. "I am just his sister's teacher, after all."

"From what Scott's told me, it seems like you two have kind of become friends, haven't you?" Kira asked. "I'm glad you found someone."

"I-"

"Another friend, I mean. Not- not like, a _boyfriend_ , or anything."

"Kira, it's-"

"I'll shut up now." She nodded. He smiled at her.

"Have fun." He told them, watching them get out of the car.

"Bye Stiles! See you next month!" Kira waved excitedly. He chuckled, watching them walk hand in hand towards the large glass doors, Scott catching her when she almost tripped and landed on her face.

Lie. He wasn't staying with Lydia and Jackson. He'd actually told them that he was staying at his father's for the break. It's been almost two weeks, but he still can't really look at Lydia since his outburst at her house. He'd basically gone and cried on his father's couch for three hours, then said goodbye and hadn't spoken to him science aside from the occasional _really dad, I'm fine over the phone._

He arrived at the apartment and threw himself down on the couch with a sigh, not really sure what to do with himself now that he was going to be all alone for three weeks.

 His phone decided now was a great time to ring, and he had to agree with it, because the dark thoughts he'd been trying to keep at bay were creeping up on him.

"Hey, daddy-o." He said once he saw who was calling.

"Hey kiddo. I uh...I've got to ask you something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Lydia's called me about fifty times in the last week, asking about you." Oh. "I know you two are close now, so why haven't you answered her calls?"

"It's...complicated."

"She told me you blew up, Stiles. I'm guessing this is about what happened when you came over?"

"Yeah..." Stiles sighed, closing his eyes. "Yeah it is."

 "Now, I'm not going to push you to talk to her if you don't want to, but-"

"You're right. I probably should."

"Of course I'm right, I'm your father." His dad laughed. Stiles grinned.

God he missed his dad. He missed his old room, the view from his window, walking down the familiar hallway to his bathroom. He missed the walls, riddled with holes from when he tacked up pictures, trying to solve cases alongside his father. The cactus near the living room window, the last thing he had of his mother's aside from his large red hoodie.

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Could I...if you're not busy I mean...I could come over?"

"I told you, you can come over whenever you want, you don't need to ask. This is still your home Stiles." His father said softly.

"I meant for the whole break. Like stay in my old room and everything."

"That would be great, kiddo." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I'm an adult now dad, you've gotta stop calling me that."

"I'm your father, and I'm older than you. I'm gonna be calling you kiddo till you're a hundred years old, just watch."

"I'll...I'm coming over later today, okay?"

"That's awesome son. I'll see you in a bit."

"Love you dad."

"Love you too." And then he hung up.

He didn't want to burden his father with having to calm him down from a nightmare every night, or coach him through another panic attack. But he also needed something familiar. More familiar than the apartment he once shared with his girlfriend or the college he once attended and now taught at.

He got up, wincing at the still present pain in his leg, and set about packing his things.

 

* * *

 

 

"Alright big bro, time to decorate." Cora announced as she entered the loft.

"I though you 'didn't do christmas.'" He said, directly quoting her from their conversation a few weeks ago. She just made a vague hand gesture.

"Well, I do now, so... Let's make this place festive." She dropped her bag near the couch.

"What are you planning?" He wondered, sipping his coffee.

"Nothing." She sounded so convincing. He'd been anyone else, he would have believed her. But he wasn't. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Holy shit Derek, I'm serious. Nothing's going on. What's Stiles doing for the break?" She changed the subject.

Derek glanced at his phone, resting on the counter top a foot away from him. Stiles hadn't called, like he said he would last night. Not that he really _cared_ if Stiles called. He wasn't Stiles' mother or anything, he didn't need to hear from him all the time. But he felt a weird sense of... Protectiveness over him. Being the only human in the pack, he was the weakest, and that meant he was the easiest to get to. The kink in the armor. Though it was becoming clear Stiles was brave, and a lot smarter than Derek thought, he was still fragile.

"I don't know." He sighed. "Maybe he went with Scott to wherever."

"No, he's still here." Cora frowned at the ceiling. "Pack bond, remember? I just...I can sense him."

Derek hadn't thought about that. She was right though. Stiles was still in Beacon Hills.

"Why do you want to know?" He asked her.

"He's probably lonely. I feel bad. Maybe it's just because I'm the alpha. I don't want to leave the weakest part of the pack alone, you know?"

"I guess."

"We should invite him to stay with us."

"Cora, seriously, what are you up to?"

It's not like she forgot the little fight they had. He admitted he felt _something_ for Stiles. Whether it was love or just attraction or maybe just friendship, he felt it. Stiles was easy to be around, easy to talk to, and he filled the awkward silences with mindless chatter. Derek found that he didn't feel the guilt and sadness as much when he was around him. Stiles reeked of depression and anxiety and medication, but he also had this energy about him. He was like the sun, and Derek could stare at him for hours, even if he-

_No. No no no. Not that_. Derek wasn’t a sap. He wasn’t going to sit there and compare this guy he barely knew to the sun. He didn’t even like the sun. Stare at it too long and ir fucking blinds you. If anything, Stiles was the moon or…something.

"Never mind." She grumbled, going up the steps.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles lay on his old bed, on the same comforter it had on since he left for college. The same led zeppelin shirt he'd worn since he was fifteen. The same posters on the wall, since he couldn't bring himself to tear them down. He wanted to leave his room the way it always had been, because backing it up in small boxes and taking it with him would have meant he wasn't coming back. And he couldn't leave dad alone like that.

His room still smelled the same. Like new books and car fresheners, because his mother always liked the ones shaped like trees, and so he hung them on his bookshelf. He was sure that if he looked under his bed, he'd find socks and shirts and papers older than his last relationship.

"Hey Stiles! Wanna come with me to buy a tree?!" His father called from downstairs. He grinned at the ceiling, then rolled out of bed.

"I could never pass up the opportunity to pick out a tree, come on dad." Stiles said, bounding down the stairs. His father smirked at him.

"We're not getting a ten foot tall tree, Stiles."

"Aw, come on! It'll be hilarious!"

"No. It would never fit in the house."

"But it would still be hilarious." He argued. His father rolled his eyes and clapped his shoulder.

"Sure. Come on, let's go."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. Why, did you want to do something?" His dad asked.

"No...I just thought I'd..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I missed this place, I guess. Kinda wanted to stay and just…sit."

"You don't spend enough time here." Stiles looked up at his father. "I don't- not to make you feel guilty, I know that- you know it gets really quiet around here, without you around to run your mouth off all the time, and-"

"I get it dad. It's okay."

"Are _you_ okay?" Loaded question.

If he was asking if Stiles was better than two months ago, then the answer was yes. If the answer was no, then he'd still be locked up at Eichen House, in a padded cell with a lock on the outside, being force fed meals and convinced that he needed to die because _damn it it's all my fault I'm so sorry Malia_. But it wasn't no.

If he was asking about when Stiles showed up at his door and had a mental breakdown, then no. That was still an issue. But he wasn’t going to tell him that.

_"How do you do it, dad?" He croaked. "How am I supposed to live without her?"_

_"You're mother wouldn't have wanted me to go through life like a zombie." His father said simply. "I just focus on the good memories. Like when we all had that food fight in the kitchen." Stiles gave a weak laugh._

_"I remember that."_

_"Have any memories like that of Malia?" Stiles winced, fresh tears pouring down his cheeks._

_"Y-yeah."_

_"Try and think about those."_

_"Dad, I can't- I'm not- not yet." He stammered. His father just smiled sadly at him._

_"It's okay. You'll get there."_

"I'm fine, dad." He lied, forcing himself to smile. It probably looked fake, and pathetic, but his father had to know he was trying his best. "Really."

"Whatever you say kid." His dad seemed convinced, for now. They sat down on the couch, and his father turned on the TV. "We'll go tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure." He promised, grinning at him.

 

* * *

 

 

_Come on Stiles, pick up_. Derek thought, pacing his living room. He stopped and stared down at his feet, willing them to stay putt. Pacing wasn't something he did. That was something Stiles did. Stiles, the ADHD, babbling human. And Derek was anything but that.

Maybe he shouldn't have called at five in the morning.

"Hello?" Came Stiles' almost unintelligible grumble. His voice was thick with sleep, and Derek could hear him yawning through the recover.

"Stiles?"

"Uh, yeah? Derek? What's up?" Stiles mumbled. "There's not something wrong is there? Everyone's okay?" The man asked, more alert now.

"No no, everything's fine."

"Oh." A pause. "So...why are you calling me?"

"I need you to research something for me."

"Sure. What is it?"

"Ever hear of a wendigo?"

"Do you know who you're talking to? Dude, I _majored_ in this, come on. Have a little faith." He could hear the sound of fabric rustling, and he knew Stiles was getting out of bed.

"What do you know about them?"

"Enough. Why?"

"I think there's one here. Eating people at Beacon Hills Memorial." He told him. There was another yawn from the other side. "Did I wake you?"

"Huh? No...maybe. It's okay. I was going to wake up soon anyway." Stiles assured him.

"How's your leg? And your head?"

"People would probably think I've been to war if they saw all the scars I've got on my body, but I'm okay. Still hurts a bit to walk, but it's fine." Derek frowned.

He forgot about that. That humans scar so easily. While there had been humans in his family, they never got hurt enough to leave a scar, and when they did, Deaton always found a way to heal it so that they remained blemish free. But Stiles didn't have Deaton to fix him. He still had the claw marks slashed across his hip in angry, puckered red lines, and nail shaped indents on his wrists, and a slowly healing pink line of his forehead. Stiles wasn't like them. The lines of war on his body wouldn't disappear.

"Good."

"So, we're going wendigo hunting?"

"No. I am. There is no we." Derek told him. Stiles let out what must've been a frustrated sigh.

"You need me."

"I don't. I'll be fine on my own."

"Right. Sure. I'm going."

"Stiles-"

"Don't even try, sourwolf. I'm going, you know I am, and there's no point in arguing because you know I'll just show up anyway." He was right. Didn't mean Derek was going to stop trying. “Besides. You need me.”

"You're incredibly reckless, you know that?"

"I'm aware of that, yes."

"Fine." Derek finally said. "Come along. Put your life in danger. Like I care."

"Love you too, Der-bear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, this chapter didn't have much much going on. Just needed to point out that, right now, Stiles is avoiding Lydia. Originally, he had planned on spending the break alone in his apartment, but decided he didn't trust himself to not do something stupid, so he changed his plans.
> 
> I didn't plan to post this around my actual Christmas break, but that's want ended up happening, so.
> 
> Next chapter: the really serious stuff that I was talking about. If you don't like reading about attempted suicide, I suggest you skip that one. I'll post a summary of it at the beginning of chapter twelve.


	11. I won't fall yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora is thrilled that Derek is now slightly less emotionally constipated. Derek, however, is the opposite of happy when he gets to Stiles' apartment. Or rather, the roof of his apartment building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half the story is already posted, wow. Honestly, I'm kind of dreading the end, because I had this really great idea on how it should go and i was already writing it when I thought of something else. and then I got a whole bunch of other completely different fix ideas, and an idea on how to start the second installment of this series, and I had to write it all down.
> 
> I've only written 17 chapters so far. I started writing maybe four other fics (which I might post? im not sure), and now every time I try and finish writing this one, I cant just pick one idea and stick with it. But I'm working on it.

The wendigo was found. It was killed. Between the time they found it to the time they killed it, Derek had been knocked unconscious with shock paddles, only to be awakened by Stiles punching him in the face and screaming his name (that happens a lot, for some reason). And Stiles had been almost eaten. But they managed to come out unscathed, which could be counted as a success, even though their clothes and skin were drenched in blood. Cora had come along, chopping the thing's head off before it sunk its teeth into Stiles' pale neck and torn him to bits.

And now they were here. Derek was sitting on a bench in the park, staring at the grass by his feet, watching the flakes of snow fall and collect on the ground. Christmas was two days away, and it was safe to say that he'd known Stiles for two months now. Weird, how he felt like it was two years instead.

His mother used to say that the amount of time he's known someone didn't matter. As long as they knew they could trust them. He could trust Stiles, couldn't he? It occurred to him that he didn't really know Stiles. He knew little things, like how much sugar he likes in his coffee, his need to constantly be moving, how he babbles when he's nervous. He knew that Stiles got panic attacks, that he hasn't smoked in two weeks, that he liked to fill the silence with pointless chatter. But he didn't know why. He didn't know why Stiles took the pills that Derek could smell on him, why he reeked of anxiety. Why he got so scared sometimes, his breath would hitch and catch in his throat and he'd panic. Why he was looking for a way out. And maybe he'd find out eventually, or not at all.

He could trust Stiles. He knew he could. But did Stiles trust him?

"That's your thinking face." Cora nudged him in the ribs, taking a seat beside him. He passed his hand over his face and leaned back.

"That’s because I'm thinking." He said simply. She furrowed her brows (Stiles told him the Hales must be fluent in the language of eyebrows, and he'd glared at him) and gave him a look. _Explain_. "Is it possible to feel for someone you barely know?"

"I knew it."

"What-"

"I called it. Literally, the first day you met him, I asked you _'Hot for my teacher, big brother?'_ And you said no. But you lied. You so lied." She smirked. "You are so in love with him."

"I'm not in _love_ with him." He snapped, crossing his arms.

"You something him." She shot back. “Don’t think I forgot our talk last month. You said it yourself.” He remained quiet. "You can't sit there and tell me you don't feel something for him. Because I'm not the reason he’s around so often. I’m not the one that grins and my phone like a fucking idiot when-."

"Fine." He grumbled.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch that. Did you say 'you're right Cora, I love him'?" She leaned towards him, cupping her ear.

"Shut up."

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles stood on the roof of his apartment building, staring down at the parking lot bellow. It was six stories up, and maybe, if he angled himself the right way, made _absolutely sure_ that he would land head first, maybe he would die. But he couldn't be sure. Not with the alcohol numbing his senses and all. No, then he wouldn't get it right. Then he would just end up in the hospital, and everyone would worry, and he didn't want that. No more hospitals for Stiles Stilinski. No more anything for Stiles Stilinski.

For some reason, his drunken mind decided it would be a great idea to call Derek right now. There was a small, not drunk part of him that was locked away in the back. That part of him was trying to convince him that calling Derek would be a very, _very_ bad idea. But obviously, he wasn’t going to listen

"Stiles? You haven't called since the wendigo." Derek said.

"Hiiiiii." Stiles giggled, though he really didn't know why. There was nothing funny about this. This was serious. He was contemplating his death here, damn it. no giggling. The word tilted, and he stumbled a bit. "Whoops, almos' fell."

"What?"

"Derek." He breathed. "Derrrreeek-k. Derek Hale. I wanna...I gotta tell you...what was I gonna tell you?" He slurred. Below him, a cat walked across the street.

"Stiles." Derek said, too serious for his liking. "Are you drunk?"

“ _Why so serious?_ ” he said. Then he laughed. “Silly me. wrong character.”

“ _Stiles._ ”

"Maaybeee." He giggled again. "I dunno. Got alota tequila though." He noted, staring at the bottle in his hand. It was half empty. It tasted like shit, but he really didn’t give a fuck. It was alcohol and it made him forget, so he’d take it.

"I didn't think you were the type to get drunk." Derek chuckled into the phone. "Actually...I can see that. Never mind."

"I gotta say something." Stiles gulped, suddenly not feeling like giggling anymore. "Derek, I gotta- not over the phone." Yes. He had to say it to his face, while he was brave. While the alcohol let him be brave. Because he wouldn't get a chance to when he really did it. A gust of wind blew by, and Stiles wobbled a bit over the edge of building. The edges of his vision blurred a bit, and he felt like he was looking at the world through a fish bowl.

"Where are you?" Derek asked, a hint of...something...in his voice. Stiles couldn’t really tell. "You're not home, are you."

"Kinda." Stiles looked down at the cars. "They're so small up here." He whispered.

"Are you on the roof?"

"You should be a detective, ya know?" Stiles felt the giddiness from earlier return. "Ha. That'd be funny. Det'ctive Hale.”

"Stay there." Derek ordered. "Don't move, okay? I'm coming to get you."

"M' fine, Der." He mumbled. "Fiiiinne. Not gonna fall. Not now, I don't think. Haven’t told Dad"

"Fall? Stiles, what-" Derek paused. "Stiles, I swear to god, don't move a muscle. If you're not dead when I find you, I'll kill you myself, you hear me? Stay still."

"Aw, don't be sucha sourwolf!" He pouted into the phone, glancing down again. "Gotta go, Kay? I'm thinkin'."

"Stiles, don't-"

"Shhhhh. Don't worry." He cooed. "It'll be fine." He didn't listen as Derek called his name, just hung up and out the phone in his pocket with shaky hands.

A note. Maybe he'd write a note instead. He didn't think he'd be able to do this with his dad. A note would be better. Yeah. He'd write a note. And...and maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and they could get on with their lives, and it would be okay because he would be with Malia, right?

Maybe not. Now that he thought about, he was too terrible a person to go where she most likely is. No, he deserved worse. He had killed her.

Stiles sat down on the edge, letting his feet dangle. He could down all his pills first. Yeah. So, if he got the calculations wrong (math had never been his strong point), he'd still die anyway. This was a good plan. He reached back to pat himself on the back. Stiles Stilinski; always has a plan. He almost smiled, knowing that it would be over soon.

_Or you could do it now._

Now, he won't feel anything. No one would find him. It was midnight. _Even if you lived, you'd die long before someone found you. Bleed to death._

_Do it._

_Do it Stiles._

Stiles got up, whole body shaking with fear and anticipation. But I gotta leave a note. They always leave a note, right? He thought.

_Better now. Better for everyone. The sooner the better._

Yeah. This was better. Better for everyone. Scott wouldn't have to take care of him, Lydia and dad wouldn't worry, Derek didn't need him. He was just human. A liability. Easily and frequently injured, taking the longest to heal. Not strong at all. their lives would be so much better without him dragging them down.

He closed his eyes and took a long drink of the bottle in his hand. It burned his throat, but he didn't care. The warm feeling from earlier spread through his body, the world tilting a bit.

_Stiles awoke to the feeling of someone gently and lazily trailing their fingers along his arm. Warm hands roaming over his bare back, soft lips pressing kissed to his spine. He shivered, smiling into the pillow. Malia reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.  He turned his head, opening his eyes and smiling at her._

_"Hey." He whispered, voice thick with sleep._

_"Hey little red." She muttered. He groaned, laughing a little._

_"You've been calling me that for years."_

_"I'll call you that till were old and wrinkled, and you have to scream my name in my ear forty times to get my attention." She smirked. He rolled his eyes, flipping over so that he was on his back. He didn't even get a chance to answer her before she pressed her lips to his. He lifted one hand to put in his hair, the other wrapping around her waist._

_"At least let me brush my teeth first." He murmured against her lips._

_"When are you going to learn that I don't care?"_

Stiles blinked back tears at the sudden memory. He let out a frustrated sigh, then took another drink and set the bottle down. Who gave his mind the right to bring that up? He didn't want to remember what mornings with Malia was like, not now. Not when he would never see her again.

_You're going where you deserve. The deepest, darkest part of hell._

He was going to die drunk.  Not really how he pictured his end. He always imagined it would be in a hospital, with doctors telling him he was dying of lung cancer, probably, and that maybe he could have prevented this if he didn't smoke nearly a pack a day. But Derek had stomped on that dream, distracting him with research and talks and those gorgeous green eyes of his. And he had somehow convinced him to try and quit, which was something he hadn't planned on. So Stiles thought maybe this was the way to go. Die like his mother had planned on doing before she bit it at the hospital. Drunk and falling head first off a roof.

A fitting end to his shit life.

He looked down one last time, thinking how lovely his broken, pale body and blood would look when someone found him. Scattered on the snow, the dark crimson a nice contrast to the sparkling white.

"'Dust thou art, to dust returnest, was not spoken of the soul." He whispered. "Awesome last words." And then he fell forward.

And backward. Stiles opened his eyes to see a pair of angry, electric blue eyes glaring back at him, and then he was thrown backwards, his back making a loud thud against the wall of the entrance to the roof.

"What the hell, Stiles?!" Derek growled.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek's heart nearly stopped when he burst onto the roof to see Stiles close his eyes and lean forward. He'd rushed over, grabbing the man but the back of the shirt and pulling him back before he could do something potentially life-ending, like, say, _jumping off the fucking roof._

"What the hell, Stiles?!" He growled. Stiles blinked up at him, shock evident on his face. His cheeks were pink, and judging by the strong smell of alcohol, it wasn't just from the cold.

"Derek?" Stiles mumbled. Derek stalked over, grabbing him by the shirt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I told you not to move!"

"But I wanted to." Great. Stiles was still too drunk to reason with.

"You wanted to kill yourself?" Derek snapped, trying to sound less angry. But he was angry. _So_ angry. At Stiles, for trying to do something as stupid and selfish as kill himself when so many other cared about him. At himself, for not figuring out how bad Stiles was sooner.  At the world because _what did Stiles do to deserve this?_

"I'm tired." Stiles whispered. And it sounded so broken, so small, that almost all the anger Derek felt evaporated. Anger wasn’t going to help right now.

Stiles broke down, sliding down the walls, tears streaming from his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tucked his head into his chest, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Like if he make himself small enough, he would disappear. "I'm so tired."

"What?"

"It's always there." He sobbed. "It's always there, in the back of my mind. I can't- I won't stop, I can't do anything, and it's not because of Malia, it's always been there, she just made it _worse_. It's always there, and I'm sick and tired of having to take pills and force myself to be happy I just want it to _stop_."

Derek swallowed, crouching down I from of the man. His breathing was becoming quicker and shallower, his heart rate steadily climbing, and Derek knew it wasn't long before he was having a full blown panic attack on the roof.

"Malia?" He whispered. Stiles cried harder.

"Sh-she was my girlfriend." He stuttered. "I- she - I loved her."

"What happened?"

"Derek, I can't- please don't- just let me-"

"I'm not letting you kill yourself." Derek said forcefully. "You said you'd stick around remember? You wanted...you wanted to see how this all played out."

"I don't- it doesn't _matter_. I'm bad, I- Derek it's all my fault. I deserve-"

"You matter, Stiles. You matter and your important and you're _good_ , so whatever you think you deserve, you don't. You don't deserve to plummet to your death, drunk off your ass, two days before Christmas." Stiles looked up at him, breath hitching in his throat. "Hey. It's okay. You'll be okay."

"I can't- I'm not-" Stiles resolved into sobs again, gasping for air. Derek wrapped his arms around the younger man as if he could hold him together. Because Stiles was falling apart at the seams, and Derek was desperately trying to put him back together.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm not let anything happen to you. I'll fix it. I'll-

"No no no." Stiles whispered, pushing away from him. "No."

"What?" Stiles got up, still trembling.

"You can't fix this. You can't _fix_ me, Derek." He said. "I'm not broken. I'm so much worse than that. It's the way I was wired, how I was built. There's nothing to fix, I've been messed up from the beginning."

"That's not what I meant." Derek sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Then what did you mean?" Stiles snapped, angry now. The teacher turned away from him, facing towards the edge he had almost fallen from. "It's not like-"

"I know you can't just cure something like this with simple things like 'it's okay' and other crap. I didn't mean- fuck, Stiles, I'm not very good with words, okay? I didn't mean I would fix you."

"Then what? What the fuck do you plan on doing? Why do you even care? I've known you for what, two months? You don't know anything about me."

"I want to help you! Maybe it hadn't been long, but it's been enough. I know you, I trust you, and I don't want to _fix_ you. This isn't some dumb teen romance novel. The words 'I love you' aren't going to suddenly cure you of your crippling depression. I'm not trying to push you to be perfect and pretend to be happy, I just want-"

"Stop." Stiles whispered. Derek shut up. Stiles turned around, hugging himself like it was the only thing keeping his together. Maybe it was. "Why did you come? How did you even know?"

Derek frowned. He had been planning on telling Stiles that he...somethinged...him. God. He didn't even know what he felt for him. And now was not the time to think about it, since he had just stopped the man from toppling off a building, and it would probably make everything even more confusing than it already was.

"I care about you." He said carefully. Stiles snickered.

"You don't care about me. You don't even _know_ me. You don't even know my first name." _What? It's Stiles, isn't it?_

"Stiles-"

"It's just because I'm pack." Stiles muttered. Derek fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"And how do you think you become pack, you idiot? You're pack because we care about you, not the other way around. Cora and Scott...they care. _I_ care."

"Really? Because last time I checked, you're the one that always yells at me when I fuck shit up and get hurt."

"I'm not mad at _you_." Derek admitted, taking a step towards him. Stiles didn't move. "I'm mad at myself."

"You're self?" Stiles wondered, looking confused. "I don't-"

"Because I was supposed to look out for you. And I didn't. Stiles, all I've done since I met you is get you hurt."

"You haven't-"

"The first day in the woods, I couldn't catch that omega fast enough. And then on the next full moon, and the hunters, and the wendigo...I keep letting you get hurt."

"Don't." Stiles looked up at him. Derek had moved close enough that Stiles had to look up a bit to look him in the eyes. "You were right. I was reckless. I was stupid. I-"

"Stiles." Derek sighed. "Stop listing off everything you think is wrong and just _listen_ to me for a moment." Stiles froze. Derek heard his heart rate rise again.

"S-Say that again?" Stiles whispered.

"Stop listing off everything you think is wrong." Derek repeated softly. Stiles stared at him, wide eyed and shaking. He pressed himself closer to Derek, so their chests were almost touching.

"Kiss me.”

"What?" Of all the things Derek expected him to say, that was not one of them. Derek was pretty sure he stood there, gaping at the pale, drunk man, for about a minute before Stiles repeated himself.

"Kiss. Me."

"Stiles, I'm not sure-" he was cut off when Stiles reached up and pressed their lips together.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was drunk, and on the verge of a complete mental breakdown, so in his defense, he wasn't really thinking about it.

 _Stop listing off everything you think is wrong and kiss me_. Malia had said. And Derek had said almost the same thing to him. And maybe it was the tequila that had told him to just fucking kiss the guy already, or maybe it was the fact that he actually really liked Derek. Like really. It took a while to realize it, or maybe he just refused to believe it, since they really hadn't known each other long, but he did like him.

Part of him was screaming at him to stop, this wasn't right. It hadn't been long since Malia and this was wrong and he didn't deserve to be happy right now. But that part was currently being murdered by the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed and the feel of Derek's lips against his. He bit the werewolf's lip and almost let out a moan when the man's tongue ran over his bottom lip. And then Derek pulled back, and the warm feeling that had been spreading through him disappeared, leaving him shivering in the cold.

"You're drunk." Derek breathed. Stiles closed his eyes. That was true, yes, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to kiss him.

"So?"

"So you can't mean this."

"What, kissing you?" He felt like someone was pulling on his eyelids, trying to force them closed. One moment, his face was an inch away from Derek's, the next it was buried in the werewolf's chest. "Woah."

"You need to sleep." Derek told him. "Sleep it off. Drink water."

"I'm tried." He mumbled. It wasn't the same as the broken sob from earlier. He was exhausted, his limbs like lead. He leaned heavily against Derek's chest, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat. He wondered vaguely if Derek could hear his as clear as this.

"Don't worry. I've got you." Derek whispered. Stiles felt like he was floating. He didn't bother opening his eyes.

A few moments later, he felt his soft bed beneath him, the covers being pulled up around his shoulders. His hand shot out and he opened his eyes a bit. Derek had paused when Stiles' hand gripped his. "Stiles?"

"Stay." He whispered. "Please." He didn't want Derek to witness his nightmares. To see him like that. But he'd already seen him drunk off his ass, suicidal, and he'd kissed him, so why not add night terrors to the list?

"You want me to stay?"

"Nightmares." Stiles wasn't sure if he said it or not, since unconsciousness was weighing down on him. But he heard Derek's reply.

"Yeah." He felt a weight make the bed dip behind him. "I'll stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they finally kissed. Under the worst circumstances, but they still kissed. But this isn't the end of their problem. Its actually just the beginning of a whole new set of problems to add to the old ones, but we'll get there eventually.


	12. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles doesn't remember exactly what happened yesterday, but he does know that he's warm and there's an arm around him and oh god.
> 
> His blanket is not a blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I meant to post this a bit sooner, I honestly don't know why it took so long since I had already written it. I kinda just forgot. I got distracted writing this other thing but whatever. Here it is.
> 
> For anyone who skipped the last chapter, here's a quick summary:
> 
> Derek finally admits to Cora (out loud) that he feels something for Stiles, and she gloats about how she knew it the whole time. Meanwhile, Stiles was up on the roof, trying to drink his sorrows away, and decided maybe it would be best if he just kill himself right there. But of course he had to call Derek first.  
> Derek found out where he was and got there just in time. They fought a bit, Stiles cried, Derek just wants him to be happy okay? And then Stiles surprises him by Kissing him.  
> Stiles passes out almost right after, but not before he asks Derek to stay with him. The end.

Stiles woke up to a splitting migraine. His blood pounded in his ears, the pain getting worse with every beat of his heart. What little light seeped through his closed lids felt like it was burning his eyes. He groaned, wincing at how sore his throat felt, and burrowed deeper into the warm blanket around him.

His memory was kind of spotty. He couldn't recall everything from yesterday. Everything after when he left his father's house as a blur. He remembered being on the roof. Opening the bottle of tequila he'd stolen from his father's house. Drinking...a lot. Looking down on the parking lot. Being thrown against...oh god.

This was not a blanket.

"Stiles?" A familiar, deep voice whispered. "Are you okay?"

Fuck fuck _fuck_. Derek's arm was draped over him, and his face was buried in the werewolf's chest. He panicked for a moment before he realized that they were both fully clothed. That didn't change the fact that _Derek fucking Hale_ was in his bed, asking if he was okay.

He shook his head, a pained moan escaping his lips when the movement made his head hurt more. "Your head?" He nodded. "Maybe you shouldn't have drunk two thirds of a fairly large bottle of tequila then." Derek shifted in the bed. Stiles let out a pathetic whimper, not wanting he only source of heat in his room to leave. "Hey, I'll be right back, okay?"

"Yeah." Good god. His voice sounded like he swallowed sandpaper. Derek got off the bed, pressing a hand to Stiles forehead. When he left, Stiles opened his eyes a bit, looking around.

He was still in his clothes from yesterday. Nothing in his room was different, except for maybe Derek's signature leather jacket draped over his desk chair. He turned back around and pulled the covers up over his head, relaxing into the bed. The dark covers stopped the light from getting in.

"Stiles?" He heard the door open, and Derek stepped into the room. "I'm back."

"I noticed." Stiles croaked.

"Here." Derek must have been trying to give him something, but Stiles didn't have the energy or motivation to get it. He let out a muffled groan. "Stiles, come on. You'll feel better."

"I'll feel better if I sleep."

"Get up." Derek pulled the covers back. Stiles cracked an eye open to see that Derek was holding a glass of water in his hand. The other most likely held pills. Stiles reluctantly forced his body to sit up, glared at Derek and he handed him the glass and handful of pills.

Aspirin, Adderall, and his anti-depressants. Derek had been in his medicine cabinet.

Stiles swallowed thickly, avoiding looking Derek in the face as he gulped them down, wincing at his sore throat. The man sat down on the bed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Kind of." He admitted. "It's kind of fuzzy, but...I remember..." He felt like he was a balloon, and someone had poked him with a needle and let all his air out. He deflated against the pillows. "I tried to kill myself. And you stopped me."

"Yeah."

"You saved me." Stiles repeated.

God, what had he been thinking? His drunken mind really thought he just- just off himself? Jump off a roof on the two month anniversary of Malia's death, some poetic bullshit. He couldn't do that. He was all his dad had left. How could he...why-

"Hey." Derek said softly. Which was weird, because Derek wasn't soft, he wasn't gentle, he didn't speak in hushed tones. Derek wasn't like this. Not that Stiles minded him like this. "It's okay. You're okay."

"N-no, I'm not. I tried to- fuck I can't believe I- I was so stupid."

"Yeah, you were." Derek said simply.

"What?" Stiles hadn't expected that. Well, then again, it was Derek he was talking to.

"You were stupid. You're not okay. But that fine."

"Y-you just said-"

"I was trying to be reassuring. Make you feel better." Stiles blinked at him. Derek sighed. "What else do you remember?"

"Not much." Stiles whispered. "I think I passed out on you. Kind of embarrassing, huh?"

"Who's Malia?" Derek asked suddenly. Stiles closed his eyes.

He had told him, hadn't he? Stiles didn't want to talk about this, not really. But for some reason, he felt like telling Derek everything. He wanted to talk to him for hours and hours about everything and nothing, and he didn't know why. So he took a deep breath and spoke.

"Malia was my girlfriend." He started. "I met her junior year, around the same time that Scott met Kira. Malia was...different. But I think anyone would be a little different if they spent nine years away from society in the woods."

"What?" Stiles didn't have to open his eyes to know Derek had a confused look on his face.

"Malia disappeared when she was eight. My dad...he found her in the woods towards the beginning of junior year. She spent some time in Eichen House, then came to school halfway through the year." He paused. "She was amazing."

"You loved her." Derek realized.

"Yeah. We went to college together, moved into this apartment together...she used to call me little red riding hood, because I always wore my mother's old red hoodie around the apartment. She was the only one that could really distract me from...everything." He sighed. "I was going to marry her." His hands were shaking, he knew that.

"What happened?" Derek asked. Stiles turned his head, wishing he could just disappear. But he started, he had to finish.

"She died."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek recalled what Cora told him two months ago. _'I heard his wife died or something'_ she'd said. And Derek had forgot it, because he hadn't liked Stiles then. He hardly knew him.

He remembered the girl though. He remembered the howls and screams of pain that tore through the woods. But it hadn't been werewolves, it had been coyotes, and by the time he got there, she was dead. There had been nothing he could do.

And then he realized why Stiles had looked so familiar when he first met him. Because Derek had been there, hidden away by the tree, watching. He'd seen Stiles drop to his knees before the girl, heard him scream at the girl to just _WAKE UP MALIA COME ON_. And then he'd left. Because it wasn't his business, nothing supernatural killed her, why should he care?

"And it was my fault." Stiles whispered, back facing Derek.

"It wasn't your fault."

"How long is it gonna take for you people to understand that no matter how much you say that, I'm not going to believe it."

"I don't know. But I guess I'm just going to have to remind you every day until you do." Derek told him. Stiles turned, something akin to pain and shock on his face.

"What?"

"I know what it's like to feel guilt like this. To wake up sometimes and feel like you just can't breathe because the weight of what you did is pressing down on your lungs. I know. Because it's my fault my family is dead."

"What are you talking about? It's not your fault. You were only what, seventeen? I don't-"

"The killer? The pyromaniac that burnt my house to the ground? Kate Argent. She was a hunter. And I knew it too, and I still..." If was only fair, to share what he'd done. Stiles had. "I still slept with her. Told her about my pack. My family. And she trapped them in the house while I was at school and she burned them all. But it was still my fault."

Stiles gaped at him. Derek tried hard not to close his eyes, or turn away like the teacher had. He needed Stiles to know. He wasn't alone.

"She tricked you."

"She manipulated me. But I still shouldn't have talked her in the first place. She was a hunter. And I told her everything about my family, and she used it against me and killed them."

"It wasn't your fault. She used you. She-" Derek raised an eyebrow. "It's not the same thing." Stiles argued weakly.

"No, but it's still not your fault."

"She went out there because of me. I didn't tell her where I was, when I was coming back and she- she- _Derek_ I-"

"Shhh." Derek wrapped his arms around him when he started panicking. He liked to think he got a little bit better at helping him through things like this. Stiles gasped for air and sobbed into his chest. Like he said yesterday, he wasn't very good with words. So he stayed quiet while Stiles cried and hoped that just being there was enough to comfort him.

"Why are you doing this?" Stiles asked after a while.

"Did you forget the part where I said I care about you?"

"I guess I did."

"Do you..." Derek frowned, not really sure how to continue. "Do you remember what happened after that?" _Do you remember when you kissed me?_

"I passed out, right?" Stiles asked, looking up at him.

Derek could be selfish, and tell him that no, Stiles had kissed him right before he passed out, and that he’d asked Derek to stay with him. But he wasn't going to say that. Because he couldn't be selfish, not with Stiles. Stiles was hurt and scared and confused, and Derek wasn't going to make the situation worse by bringing up something that probably only happened because Stiles was fucking drunk.

"Yeah. And then I carried you here."

"What did I say about doing that? I'm not some damsel in distress, alright?" Stiles sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'm hungry."

"Normally, I'd say go at it, but I'm pretty sure you'll just throw it up later."

"What are you-" Stiles stood up...then immediately sat back down. "Fuck. I'm so hung over."

"That's why." Derek rolled his eyes.

"Can I just stay in bed forever?" Stiles groaned. Derek hauled him to his feet, placing a hand on either side of his waist. He probably imagined the spike in Stiles' heartbeat. "What are you doing?" The pale man squeaked.

"Helping you?"

"O-oh." Stiles made a point of avoiding his gaze as he twisted around.

"It didn't look like you were going to talk to the kitchen by yourself." Derek explained, leaning him out of the room and down the hall.

Stiles sat down on one of the stools and slummed forward, resting his head on the marble, a little _ah_ escaping his lips.

"So cold." He mumbled. Derek chuckled.

He needed to pay more attention to him. Because, maybe one day, what happened last night would happen again, except Derek wouldn't be there to stop him. And Stiles would be reckless, like always, and he'd die, and who knew how long it would be before they figured it out? How long would Stiles’ body be strewn across the pavement, crimson blood surrounding his pale body? Or floating in the tub, water- _stop._

Derek's phone buzzed in his pocket.

**From Cora:**

**Where did you go last night?**

**You left without a word.**

He glanced at the man snoring softly on the counter and sighed.

 

**To Cora:**

**We have a problem.**

**It's bad.**

**From Cora:**

**What is it? Are you okay?**

**To Cora:**

**It's Stiles.**

**From Cora:**

**Is he hurt?**

**Do we have to call Scott?**

**Will he be okay?**

**To Cora:**

**I don't think he would want us to tell Scott.**

**From Cora:**

**What do you mean?**

 

Should he tell her? She really didn't need to know, and it wasn't really his place to tell her. But she was technically his alpha, and she'd sense if something was up with him anyway. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the cool metal fridge.

 

**To Cora:**

**He tried to kill himself.**

**He almost did.**

**He was about to fall of his fucking roof, but I stopped him.**

**Cora, he almost died.**

 

**From Cora:**

**Christ**

**That is bad.**

**To Cora:**

**Don't tell Scott. Don't tell Stiles that you know either. I don't think this is something he would want you to know.**

**From Cora:**

**Do you know why?**

**To Cora:**

**No. He lied.** This, he was positive Stiles wouldn't want to tell her.

**He's waking up.**

**I'll talk to you later, okay?**

 

He dropped the phone back in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Stiles jolted awake, almost slipping off the stool. The man turned around and yawned, then slowly got off the stool. He swayed a bit where he stood, but he steadied himself before going over to stand in front of Derek

"Kind of blocking the food, big guy." Stiles muttered, wincing.

"Your head still hurts."

"Well, yeah, as you were so kind to remind me, I drank over half a bottle of tequila yesterday."

"Here." Derek whispered, stepping towards him and placing a hand on either side of his face.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, bringing his hands up to grab Derek's. He swatted them away easily.

"Shhh." He told him. He started to leech the pain away. Stiles' grip in his wrists loosened, and his eyes started fluttering closed as the pain went away. And then he gasped.

 

* * *

 

 

It felt like it did at Deaton's when he had gotten ambushed by the hunters and Derek started taking the pain from his leg. His migraine was fading, along with the pain in his throat, and he felt kind of floaty. And then it was...different, to say the least.

It felt like someone had pulled at his heart a bit, and he gasped, eyes going wide. A sort of...electricity (???) surged through his whole body, a warm feeling spreading from where Derek's hands were to the rest of him. Emotions he hadn't felt before were suddenly just _there_ , and he didn't know how he knew this, but they were Derek's. Derek's emotions were being thrown at him, which was beyond strange, because he shouldn't be able to sense them at all. Anger and sadness and worry that wasn't his.

It took him a while to realize that the werewolf was staring at him with the same shocked expression. Stiles couldn't move. Couldn't blink. His breath felt like it was caught in his throat, but he didn't feel like he was suffocating. He felt...warm.

"Stiles?" Derek whispered. He finally sucked in the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, turning away to cough. "Are you okay?"

"Th-thanks." Stiles stuttered, refusing to look at him. "F-for that, I mean. Yeah." _Did he feel it too? Or am I just going crazy? It looks like he did, but…_

"No problem." No, Derek had to have felt it too. He sounded just as breathless and dazed as Stiles did. "I...I need to go. Cora's probably worried. Are you... Will you be fine if I'm gone for a bit?"

Stiles still felt it. The tug in his heart, the need to just be close to him. But he swallowed it down, ignored it. He could almost hear the unspoken _will you try and kill yourself again?_ He could see the concern on Derek's face more than feel it. he had to think about it before he answered.

"I'll be okay." He nodded. "I don't need a babysitter, you know."

"Uh huh." Derek smiled a little. "I'll be back later, okay?"

"Yeah."

As soon as the door closed, Stiles gasped, sliding down to the floor. _God, what was that?_ How had he felt that? Did Derek do something? Had he done something? Because that was definitely different than the first time Derek healed him. So different. Because he simultaneously felt like he could run a marathon and like he already had. Completely exhausted yet full of energy. He had been planning of having a small breakfast and going back to sleep, but now that last part seemed impossible. But he had to at least get up, because his phone was ringing in his room and he couldn't will it to just appear in his hand via teleportation.

"Dad." He breathed. "Hey."

"You okay kiddo? You said you were going to get something and then you never came back." _Shit. I did say that, didn't I?_ "I know it's been hard for you, since yesterday was-"

"I'm fine dad. I'm great." He didn't know if he was lying or not. "Sorry, I was just really tired, and I didn't feel very well but...I'm better now. I'll be back in time for dinner, don't worry."

"Promise?"

"Of course! No way am I missing your famous burnt Christmas Eve dinner." Stiles joked.

"Okay, I know I've messed up in the past." His father argued. "But it'll be better this year. I've given up on the oven."

"Oh thank god."

"Yeah yeah. Just...don't forget, alright?"

"Wouldn't dream of it dad. Love you."

"Love you too Stiles." After his father hung up, Stiles threw himself down on the bed, burying himself under the covers before flipping over to stare at the ceiling. _I’m so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. The _bond_. 
> 
> Stiles doesn't know that they're bonded yet, or that he might be Derek's mate, but Derek definitely does, even if he wont admit it to himself. And no, Derek isn't going to tell Stiles about the kiss. He thinks Stiles will react badly to the information, or that he'd be disgusted in himself for kissing Derek (Because Derek is a self-loathing butt who thinks he isn't good enough for someone like Stiles. Or anyone.)
> 
> We'll see how he feels about this soon enough.
> 
> Also, I'm going to try and update every other day? And then once I get to chapter 16, every week? Or twice a week? I have almost everything written, but I'm not done yet. I keep getting ideas for the next part of the series.


	13. Whole new load of crap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their problems are only just beginning.

Stiles grabbed the grey beanie Malia had gotten him last year out of the back of the closet and tugged it on, then rummaged through his drawer for his gloves. It had gotten colder than earlier, in the twenties, and he wasn't planning on freezing off any appendages. He’d need them for, you know, running from monsters and shit.

"What are you doing?"

"HOLY GOD!" Stiles squealed. It was safe to say that his masculinity just flew out the window at that point. He whirled around to see Derek, an amused look on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "Bad Derek. No sneaking up in Stiles and almost giving him a heart attack."

"You're too young to have a heart attack." Derek noted. Stiles just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, if anyone would give me one it'd be you." He grumbled, putting on the black gloves he found. "And you never know, I could have some weird heart condition. That is a thing, you know."

"Going somewhere?" Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles felt the same tug in his chest that he felt either, and he found himself leaning closer to the werewolf. He wasn’t even going to try and figure out what this was.

"Actually, yes. It's Christmas Eve, remember? I'm going to my dad's"

"Oh."

"Yeah." Stiles tugged on the beanie some more and shrugged on his coat, grabbing his keys off the nightstand. "Do you..." _Maybe I shouldn't_. "You could- I mean, if you don't have plans, I could- do you want to come with me?" _I sound like an idiot._

"To your dad's?"

"No, the garbage, I need someone to take out the trash for me." He deadpanned. Derek didn't seem to get the joke. "Yes, to my dad's. _God_ , you're terrible."

"Would he mind?" Derek wondered. _Wait, he really wants to go?_

"I don't...I don't think so. But, I mean, if you already have plans- you probably do, with Cora and stuff. You don't have to- I just don't want you to be alone." Derek smirked.

"Cora and I don't do anything Christmas Eve."

"So I guess you're coming then, right?" Stiles tried not to sound hopeful. And he might have failed.

 "Why not?"

 

* * *

 

 

Derek had felt it. When they bonded, it was like a zap of electricity through his heart. Everything about Stiles had gotten stronger. His scent was overwhelming, Derek could sense every emotion clearer than before, and it sounded like his ear was pressed right over the younger man's heart. When he let him go, it died down a bit. But it was like someone tied them together. He could feel the bond, stronger than even the pack bond, and when he reached for it, all he got was confusion and wonder from Stiles' end.

He didn't know why, didn't know how, but they were bonded. In the back of his mind, he knew. He knew why. But of course he was denying it. Because acknowledging what it was would be selfish of him. He wasn’t going to do that to Stiles. He’d… he’d find a way to break it, somehow.

"You listening to anything I'm saying?" Stiles said, breaking him out of his daze. He glanced from the road to the pale man beside him.

"What?"

"I said we're almost there." Stiles pointed ahead. "Just turn left here. It's the third house on the right." Derek followed his instructions, parking the car behind the black and black and white police cruiser.

"I forgot your dad was the sheriff." He said, getting out of the car.

"Yup. For ten years." Stiles nodded. "Okay, now that I think about it, he wouldn't be too happy that I brought an ex-murder suspect to dinner." Derek had almost forgotten about that. Though it was a bit ridiculous that they accused him of killing Laura, his sister and only family left at the time.

"I can go, if you-"

"No!" Stiles gripped his jacket. Something like fear shot through the bond, and Derek frowned. Then Stiles dropped his hand, composing his features a bit. "I-I mean, you don't- it'll be fine. You saved my life after all. I’m sure he won’t mind."

"I keep putting it in danger too." He frowned at that.

"Yeah but _he_ doesn't know that." Stiles rolled his eyes and tugged him towards the door. "Plus that's mostly my fault anyway" he paused. "Look, if he gets pissed, I'll guilt him into letting you in and remind him that if it wasn't for you, I probably would have bled to death on the forest floor." He glanced back at him. _You also would have fallen to your death_. But he didn't mention that.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Possitive." Stiles nodded, biting his lip. He lifted his hand to pound on the door. "Dad?"

Derek could hear something drop inside the house, and then someone fiddling with the lock. The door opened, and the sheriff pulled his son into a hug, unaware that Derek was even there.

"Hey kiddo. Dinner's not done yet, but I haven't burnt anything so far."

"You're gonna jinx it." Stiles laughed. Then he sighed, glancing back at Derek again. "Dad, I...I brought someone, i-if that okay."

"Stiles, that fine. I-" the sheriff finally turned to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, standing a bit straighter. Derek couldn't really tell what he was thinking, but it couldn't be good. "Hale?"

"Sir." He didn't really know what to say. Stiles looked like his fucking brain was about to explode, and Derek really wished he could tell him to just calm down a bit.

"You're the one that found him in a woods a few months ago, right?"

"Look dad I know it's kind of weird and everything, but I-"

"I was. And my sister, Cora." He interrupted Stiles' babbling. The sheriff nodded.

"You know your mom was a friend of my wife's." Stiles kind of looked like a fish, his mouth opening and closing, no sounds coming out.

"She talked about Claudia a bit, yes." The man nodded again.

"Come on in before you freeze to death. You’re not wearing enough layers to keep to cold out." And then he turned and went into the house. Stiles let out a long sigh and seemed to deflate a bit.

"I expected worse."

"I find your lack of faith disturbing." Derek smirked. Stiles gaped at him.

"Did you just..." He swallowed. "Did you just...quote Star Wars at me?"

"I think I did, yeah."

"Stiles? You two coming in?" The sheriff called

"Yeah dad!" Stiles called. He started up the steps, turning back to give Derek a smile. It was infectious. When Stiles smiled, a really, genuine smile, you couldn't help but return it. Their bond was practically vibrating with anticipation and happiness, and he wished he could keep it that way.

Stiles bounded up the porch steps and into the house, not pausing to see if he was following. Derek stopped at the doorway, surveying to room. There was a large tree next to the TV that was covered in lights and ribbons. Beside the kitchen, there was a small table set with two plates. The house smelled like pine and bread and-

Stiles waved him over, and the sheriff set and extra plate on the table.

He hadn't sat down and had actual dinner like this since before the fire. There hadn't been time or a reason to after. He spent the first five years after in New York with Laura, moping. Then one year visiting Peter and hoping at least one other person in his family alive. He spent the year after that hunting down the bastard for killing his sister. And then he killed Kate. After that, he killed the head of the Argents, Gerard. And then he fought the alpha pack, with the help of Peter who somehow came back from the dead. And then he moved back to New York, because coming back seemed to be a mistake at the time. And then he heard Cora was back and...yeah, no time for family dinners.

"So...you boys kept in touch after everything?" The sheriff asked.

"Of course. I gifted him with my presence as a thank you for saving my life." Stiles joked.

"He probably wishes he hadn't now, after listening to you talk someone's ear off."

"Ha ha _ha_. Very funny dad." Stiles rolled his eyes. "You should be a comedian."

"He's actually not that bad." Derek offered. Stiles grinned.

"See?"

"I'm just messing with you kiddo." The sheriff laughed. Their easy banter reminded Derek of Laura, and how they used to tease each other all the time. He and Cora did it all the time, but it wasn't...he missed Laura. "So, Derek, I heard your sister was back." _Heard she was alive._

"Yeah. She...she's actually in Stiles' class."

"Highest grade in the class, but I guess that because-" Stiles snapped his jaw shut with a glance at Derek.

"She really loves mythology." Derek provided with a small smile. The sheriff raised an eyebrow at his son.

"Sounds a lot like someone I know."

"You mean me, right?" Stiles asked.

"Of course I mean you." The sheriff laughed. "So what do you do?"

"I haven't really had time for a job after...everything." Derek shrugged. "My…family left me a lot of money, so I'm not completely broke."

"Do you have anything in mind?"

"Maybe I'll become a vet.” He answered honestly. Stiles snickered beside him, and he gently kicked him in the shin.

"Interesting." The sheriff nodded. It was silent for a while, but it wasn't as awkward as Derek had thought it would be. "So, do you have a girlfriend?"

Stiles choked on a piece of bread.

 

* * *

 

 

The second the words left his father's mouth, Stiles thought _no, he doesn't, because he kissed me._ And then it hit him. He _kissed_ Derek. He coughed and sputtered, reaching for the glass of wine next to his plate and downing it.

"Uh...you okay son?" His dad wondered.

_Dunno dad, would you be okay if you just remembered you kissed Derek fucking Hale?!_

"Y-yeah." He managed to gasp out. "I just, uh...bread." _I'm an idiot_.

He could feel Derek's gaze on him, but he couldn't look up at him. Not without his face turning into something akin to a tomato and his heart threatening to break out of his rib cage. So he kept his eyes trained on the clock behind his father or the near empty plate in front of him.

"I don't." Derek said after a bit, glancing at Stiles.

"How about I take your plates to the kitchen you look like you're finished."  Stiles said it so quickly it all probably sounded like one word. He stood abruptly, almost knocking down his chair, and started grabbing the dishes. His father shot him a confused look as he shot out of the dining room.

"My son's a bit...odd." He heard him say. He turned on the water to drown out Derek's response and started washing the dishes.

 "Stiles?" Derek's voice came from behind

"Hmm?" Stiles hummed, keeping his back toward Derek.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm great. Wonderful. Everything's fine, go sit back down."

Except it wasn't. He wasn't fine. Because he _kissed Derek_. He kissed Derek. It's only been three months since Malia, how could he do this to her? He was worse than he thought. If there was something deeper than the deepest pit in hell, then that's where he deserved to go. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn't even known Derek that long. _It was probably the alcohol. Yeah. The alcohol. If it was the alcohol, then I wasn’t really my fault, right? No. I’m the one that chose to drink it. God. What am I-_

"There's no point in lying to me you know. I can hear your heartbeat."

"It was worth a shot." Stiles turned around, biting his lip. He stared down at Derek's shoes, not really ready to look him in the eyes. Or lips. _God_.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, alright? Just drop it."

"Stiles, Derek? You two okay?"

"Fine dad!" Stiles forced himself to smile, glancing up at Derek before hurrying back to his father. "That was great."

"Yeah, well, I told you I wouldn't burn anything this year."

"I'm so proud." He deadpanned.

"Uh huh." His father got up and pushed in the chair. "You didn't have to wash them, I could've-"

"Nope. You made dinner, I wanted to." He told him. He could hear Derek walking up behind him.

"You staying again kiddo? Or do you want to go back to your apartment?"

"I'm staying." Stiles nodded.

They talked for a while after wards, sitting on the couch with the TV on low. Stiles learned he was actually very good at avoiding Derek's gaze if he found the right distraction. And talking to his father about work his cases and everything was a good distraction. Derek sat silently on the chair next to the couch, only speaking when Stiles' father asked him something, which helped. And then it was midnight, and Derek said he should probably get going so he could spend some time with Cora. And Stiles decided now was a great time to go to bed, because he couldn't hide it any longer.

The guilt was eating at him. He kissed Derek. He'd tried to kill himself, which was selfish enough as it was, but then he'd kissed someone he hadn't even know for that long. He had been with Malia for eight years. She deserved better than that. So much better. How could he et himself forget her like that?

Stiles closed the door softly behind him. He sank down to the ground and put his head in his hands. _What have I done?_

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was making his way to his car when he heard the sound of muffled sobs coming from the house. Guilt and grief rang through the bond, worse than before, and Derek walked around the side of the house. The window above him was Stiles', he was sure of it (mostly because he could see the old star wars poster from here). He looked back at the front of the house, making sure the sheriff wouldn't come out, and scaled the tree next to the window. Very convenient that one of the branches brushed up against the window.

Derek could see Stiles sitting on the carpet, rocking back and forth against the door. He could hear his sobs, but he couldn't see his face. He knocked on the window.

Stiles lifted his head so fast that it slammed into the door. He yelped.

"Stiles? You okay?" The sheriff called from somewhere in the house.

"I'm fine dad! Just dropped something!" Stiles called back, staring wide eyed at Derek. He just raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the window. Stiles hesitantly stood and opened it, but he didn't move back enough for Derek to enter. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you crying."

"So you climbed a tree and scared the crap out of me by tapping my window?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine." He lied, wiping his tears with the back of his hand like a little kid. He looked so young. It felt like someone punched Derek in the gut.

"You're not fine." He said softly.

"It doesn't matter."

"Stiles." The man turned around and walked towards his bed, leaving the window open so Derek could enter. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Stop lying to me!" Derek tried not to yell the words.

"Then stop asking." As if it was that simple. Derek reached over and put his hand on Stiles' shoulder, turning him so that they were face to face. Why did he look so guilty?

"I'm not going to stop. I want to help you, why can't you-"

"You're the last person that could help me." He snapped. "Why can't you get it through you thick skull that maybe, just maybe, I don't _want your fucking help_."

 _What?_ Derek felt like he'd been slapped in the face. And stabbed in the chest. Simultaneously. It was not a good feeling.

"What?"

"I said, I don't want your help. All you've done is fuck this up. I was getting what I deserved, I was dealing, and then you had to go and be the fucking hero like always- you made me- this is your fault!" He sounded almost hysterical. “Why can’t you just- you should have just left me to- Derek-”

"What are you- are many because...because I saved you?"

"Yes!" Stiles threw his hands in the air, breathing ragged. "No. Maybe. It doesn't matter."

"Stiles-"

"You should have stopped me." Derek was seriously confused. He stepped closer, trying to comfort the man, but Stiles stumbled backwards, back hitting the bookcase behind him. He looked...scared. His chest was heaving, and there were tears streaming down his face, and Derek just couldn’t understand _why._

"I thought you wished I hadn't."

"You shouldn't've let me kiss you." He whispered.

"You're angry because you kissed me?"

"I was with her longer, I shouldn't've - I need to-" Derek knew he was panicking. But it didn't look like Derek could help him this time. "Get out."

"Stiles-"

"Out."

He didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make this better. He couldn't try and send anything through the bond, that would just upset him even more. So he left. and he wished he hadn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. In twelve days, he'd have to go back. Back to teaching and giving lectures and seeing him, because Cora was in his class so that meant that Derek would be there, every day, waiting for her. he didn’t know if he could do it.

He closed his eyes, glad the tears had stopped hours ago.

_Stiles opened his eyes to see the large tree stump in the woods. Except Malia's body wasn't there. Nothing was there. It was like he was floating in space, just the stumpy there and him. He sat down on it, running a shaky hand over the cracks and the grass that had sprung up front hem. And then he heard a voice he never thought he'd here again._

_"Oh Genim." He froze._

_"Mom?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, Stiles didn't take the kiss very well, and Derek doesn't really get why. He just feels guilty for not stopping it, since he thinks that Stiles only kissed him because he was drunk, and that it was a mistake. And yeah, most of the reason why he kissed him in that particular moment was because of the alcohol. 
> 
> And yup, Talia and Claudia used to know each other when the boys were young. The reason why will be revealed much, much later in the story. And so will the reason why Derek doesn't seem to remember it.


	14. It's okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has to talk to him. He has to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally much longer, but while I was going through it and fixing mistakes, I thought that Maybe this should be a separate chapter. So, this one is really short, but the next one will be much longer.

The first day of the New Year passed. Break ended. Scott came back, along with Kira. Not only were they now engaged, but she was surprisingly very okay with the fact that her fiancé was a werewolf (but maybe that was to be expected, considering how her mother’s best friend was an Alpha). Cora didn't have a problem with her, and soon after, the others could feel her through the pack bond. The snow melted. And Stiles...wasn’t around.

Derek hadn't seen him since he told him to go on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning, he had heard the human's heartbeat just outside his door, feel his hesitance and regret. But when he came down to open the door, all that was there were two boxes- one with his name, one with Cora's. He'd gotten them gifts. Of course he had. Derek hadn't opened his, but he got Cora some new books that she had been wanting.

He hadn't called. Hadn't texted. When Derek asked Scott, he'd said that Stiles was still staying at his dad's. Cora had told him that the whole two weeks they'd been back in school, Stiles finished his lectures early. He was avoiding them.

"He looks bad, Derek." She sounded...angry.

"I need to do something."

"What happened? You told me he invited you to dinner- now, what? He hates you? Hates us?"

"I think it's just me." Derek sighed.

"What did you do?"

"I don't think-"

"I'm a god damn adult now, Derek. An _alpha_ , not a child. Just tell me what the fuck you did." She snapped.

"I kissed him." He said quietly. She gaped at him. "Well, I mean, he kissed me. On the roof. And then he...freaked out, I guess. Something about knowing her longer. I think he was pissed at himself for kissing me since his girlfriend died not too long ago." Derek must have been right. Because there was no other reason for there to be so much guilt going through their bond.

"Did you tell him?" Cora asked.

"Tell him what?"

"That you two are mates?" She raised an eyebrow, as if it was obvious. Derek glared at her.

"We are not-”

"Don't even try bro. I can smell it on you. You're so bonded with him. I've known for a while now."  He just ran his hand over his face and let out a sigh. She was right. He could deny it all he wanted, but it was true. When he pulled Stiles' pain, they'd bonded. Or...their bond be some more noticeable or…something. It was kind of confusing. He didn’t even know bonds could be established like that. He felt like he left a piece of himself in Stiles.

"Can you smell it on him? Maybe-"

"Can't really smell anything other than cigarette smoke." She frowned. "It's...bad."

"Okay, I'm going to talk to him." Derek shook his head, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch.

"And what exactly are you going to say to him? Last time I checked, talking to him put you two in this mess." Cora noted. Derek glared at her. “What? I’m right.”

"I'm going to fix it." _Though I don't know how._

 

* * *

 

 

When Derek arrived at the sheriff's house, he knew Stiles wasn't there. The beat up old jeep wasn't there. He couldn't hear them talking in the house. Couldn’t smell him. Just one steady heartbeat and muffled sound of a TV. But he got out and knocked on the door anyway, hoping maybe the sheriff had answers.

"Hale?" The sheriff wondered, looking confused, if not a bit suspicious.

"Is Stiles here?" He asked, as if he didn't already know.

"No...He left a few days ago."

"Do you know where he is?"

"His apartment, I think."

"Thank you." Derek turned to leave.

"I never got to really thank you. You know, for saving my son and everything." Derek shook his head.

"Not necessary."

"You know you met him before." The sheriff said softly.

"I have?" He didn't think the man saw him that night three and a half months ago, but maybe-

"I said your mother was a friend of Claudia's. We used to bring Stiles over when they got together; you'd sit there and watching him while he played with blocks." The sheriff chuckled. "I never knew why you found that so entertaining."

"I don't...I don't remember that." Derek frowned. He wished he did though.

"Yeah, well, I don't blame you. We stopped after Stiles turned one. Claudia's mother died, and we stayed with her father for a couple of years, and when we came back...I don't know. But it was kind of hard to separate you from him back then."

Maybe that was why Stiles had been so familiar. Not because he'd seen him in the woods that day, but because he'd technically known Stiles since he was born.

"Sir...not that I mind, but...why are you telling me this?"

"I just...I'm sorry." Derek knew he wasn't talking about the fire. He was talking about nine years ago, when he arrested him for the murder of his sister.

"It's okay." Derek assured him.

"Help him, alright? Because I've done all I can, and it doesn't seem to be working." The sheriff gave him a look. Derek knew Stiles probably hadn’t told him anything, but it never occurred to him that the man might figure things out on his own. And this was his…blessing? He would figure it out later.

"I'll do my best sir." He nodded.

When he got to the apartment building, he could smell smoke. Under that, the faint smell of Stiles. When he looked up, legs were dangling off the edge of the roof. Stiles' end of the bond was...numb. Almost non-existent. Derek had tuned it out to give Stiles space, but maybe he should have paid attention. _Please not again._ He made his way up to the roof.

"...great, you know? But I... I love you. Or loved, I guess, cause you're not _really_ here, are you?" Derek could hear Stiles mumbling to himself when he opened the door. Stiles didn't seem to notice him. "I just wish...I wish you were here. And mom. You guys would be great at this. You guys were the problem solvers. You always said I was too, but I don't think I can fix this." Stiles brought the cigarette to his lips. A second later, smoke blew out his mouth. "Find a way to tell me this is okay. Please. Because I don't think I could live with myself any longer if you don't. I just…"

Stiles laughed then, a hollow, emotionless sound that made Derek shiver. He didn't know whether he should leave or make his presence known or something. "I think I like him. I mean...really. Like how I liked you. He's kind of like you, you know. He says things you've said before he's...odd, like you. The other day, he quoted star wars at me. I think I melted a little bit. But you- I don't-" Stiles was crying now, Derek knew it. _I should do something_. "I don't know what I'm going to do Malia." He sobbed. He dropped the cigarette and leaned back so the top half of his body was on the floor, legs still dangling over the edge. Derek waited a bit before clearing his throat.

"Stiles?" He said softly. Stiles didn't even flinch.

"I figured you’d show up eventually."

"Everyone's worried about you."

"Of course they are." He mumbled. "When you avoid everyone for three weeks, they tend to worry."

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"You're going to anyway." Stiles replied. Derek sat down on the edge next to him, looking back to study his face.

Stiles looked worse than before. It looked like someone punched both his eyes, to be honest. He even had some stubble on his jaw. He smelled like depression and smoke, and Derek searched frantically for his usual scent under it all. The smell of old books and spearmint gum. The smell of _Stiles_. "I know you're staring at me."

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry." Derek blurted. Stiles cracked an eye open.

"For what?"

"Letting you get like this."

Stiles blinked at him a couple times, still not entirely sure he was really there. He'd dreamt of Derek, more than he cared to admit, and he couldn't be sure the man was really there. This could be another dream, for all he knew. A hallucination his cruel mind was projecting.

After staring at him for a bit more, he decided that no, this was real. Dream Derek always left, and this one looked like he was staying. Stiles wordlessly sat up. Derek was watching him, studying him.

"You're...sorry?" Stiles wondered dumbly. Maybe it was the large glass of wine he'd had earlier. Or the numbness he felt.

"Can I tell you something?" Derek asked suddenly. Stiles nodded, scooting a bit closer, because despite how guilty he felt for letting himself forget about Malia for one moment, that pull and the urge to be near Derek was still there, and he was too tired to fight it. "When I was in high school, I was with this girl. Paige." Derek sighed. Stiles could tell it was difficult for him to say, sense the hesitance on him. He could relate. "I loved her. I always will. Maybe it's cheesy, but I was fifteen, and 'she was like the sun' was the best I could come up with at the time. But it still applies. She was gorgeous. And wonderful. And smart and funny and...she died. And maybe if she hadn't dated me, she'd still be alive. And it took me a while to get over her. I'm not over her, not really.  But it took me a long time to realize that it wasn't my fault. It's actually Peter's fault, but that's a story for another time." Derek frowned. "The point is, you don't have to feel guilty. I'm not going to try and force you to try and...look, Stiles, I'm really bad with words alright? I had this big speech planned, and then I got here, and I have all these points to make that I can't connect because you, Stiles, might be the only person who actually makes me nervous, so just please stop doing this. Stop ignoring me and everyone else. Because it's not doing anyone any good, especially you."

Derek was right, as always. Stiles felt like shit. Granted, that was the point, but...

"I know." He said softly. "But I can't _stop it_. I can't- I don't want to feel this, not really-I've tried-"

"I know it takes time. And patience. And that it'll be a while until you're close to okay and you've got a lot of shit to work though. I do too. And maybe this is selfish of me, but that long, important process and all the waiting and hoping and anxiety?" Derek swallowed. "Can we just skip it? Can you just be kissing me now?"

Stiles blinked. And then he blinked again. Because he wasn't sure if he heard that right. Part of him was kind of freaking out a bit because shit, Derek used a Buffy quote (a Tara quote, quite possibly one of his favorite characters) to tell him that he had feelings for him (holy shit Derek Hale wants to kiss him) and he could feel the blush crawling up his cheeks. Another part of him was trying to tell him maybe he should just jump to his death right here and now for even considering kissing the older man when it was all his fault Malia died, everyone he loves dies, and maybe Derek would too. And then a small, almost microscopic part of him told him it was okay.

Because he didn't fucking ask for this, damn it. He loved Malia with all his heart. All his soul. And he still loved her. He should never stop. But she hated when he was like this. And yeah, maybe it was too soon for him to start dating someone, but she always wanted him to be happy. And he told her the same. And (quoting Derek here) maybe he's being selfish, but _screw it._

"You know I think it was the Buffy quote that sold me." He muttered, giving the man a small smile. And then Derek leaned forward, cupping his jaw with one hand and rubbing his thumb over his cheek. Stiles closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. And then Derek's lips were on his and it was so, so much better than the first time. "So...I make you nervous, huh?"

Derek just smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now they must deal with the relationship stuff. And Scott and Cora's teasing.
> 
> And yeah, Buffy quotes. My boyfriend convinced me to watch the show a couple of years ago and I really loved Willow and Tara. There are going to be a lot more quotes from a bunch of other shows and movies, because Derek is secretly a huge fucking nerd and Stiles loves it.


	15. There's only so long you can hide from the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally happening. Hes actually going to try and get better. Really try. And Derek is going to do everything he can to convince him that her death wasn't his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the series might actually be finished sooner than I thought. I got the best idea for the ending, and I got it while listening to Arsonist's Lullaby, so... You may be able to guess where this is going.

Derek grabbed every box of cigarettes he could find and threw them in the dumpster, despite Stiles' protests. He whined and moaned about how awful the withdrawal was going to be, and Derek knew it would be, but he also didn't want Stiles to die in a few years for something as horribly human as lung cancer.

They weren't dating now, really, because Derek thought maybe that would be too much pressure and Stiles had just agreed to try and get better. They were in a state between dating and friendship, he guessed, and that was fine. Because Stiles had a small smile on his face for the first time in a while and there was a glimmer of hope and joy in the bond, and that was enough for Derek. He knew that eventually, he'd have to tell Stiles about the bond, if he hasn't already figured it out. Derek tried his hardest to block his emotions from him. Because if he told him now, maybe Stiles would feel like he couldn't leave if he wanted to. And he could. It would hurt like hell, but he could call it quits and Derek would respect that.

"I'm serious man. Prepare for a clingy, fidgety, babbling Stiles. I'm probably gonna get fat now, cause I'll be eating to distract myself. Hear that wolf man? You're gonna turn me into one of those 600 pound guys that people make TV shows for." Stiles rambled, sniffling.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Your mouth is talking. Might want to look into that." Derek said. Stiles frowned for a moment, then beamed at him.

"I could kiss you right now for using a Captain Mal against me, but since you used said quote to insult me, I'm just going to do this." Stile stuck his tongue out at him and plopped down on the couch. "Who knew you were actually a huge nerd under your broody shoulders and handsome face and...eyebrows."

"Eyebrows?"

"Yeah dude. They have their own language. One day, you're going to raise your eyebrows so much their going to disappear into your hair, and they're not going to come back, just watch."

"Don't call me dude." Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles scratched absently at the tan patch on his arm.

"What are we?" He asked quietly.

"Whatever you want."

"That's a bit vague."

"What do you want us to be?" He asked. Stile chewed at his bottom lip, something that Derek realized was absolutely adorable.  Stiles was adorable. And hot. That too. _God._

"Are we...dating? Like when you go out and one of us pays for the other's dinner and crap?"

"I don't know, are we?"

"Are we boyfriends now?" Stiles wrinkled his nose. "God, that sounds so immature. Like we're in high school. But partners makes us sound fifty, and we are nowhere near fifty. Man shaped friend who I occasionally make out with? That's just dumb. I-"

"Stiles." The man stopped, deflating a little.

"Right. Babbling."

"You don't have to think about this now." Derek assured him. Stiles nodded, yawning. It was only five in the afternoon but Derek guessed either Stiles woke up in the middle of the night or he never slept at all. So he gently pulled the man into his lap and let him sleep.

It was a bit weird, watching the unstoppable, always talking, always moving force that was Stiles finally still. He turned and buried his nose in the crook of Derek's neck, sighing. Derek ran a hand through the younger man's hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Stiles let out a content hum. Derek didn't know if they were voluntary or not, but either way, Stiles was relaxed and happy.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles fell asleep to the sound of Derek's breathing and hands running through his hair. It was the most relaxed he had been in a while.

_Stiles looked around, searching frantically for his bat. He knew he dropped it around here somewhere. Scott grabbed his arm._

_"Come on man, let's go!"_

_"But-"_

_"We'll find another one, and then come back for tomorrow. We've gotta get out of here." Scott told him, looking around. His eyes were glowing yellow. The hallways of the high school were silent, a fog seeming to setting two feet over the floor._

_"Right." Stiles nodded, scrambling up and following his best friend through the hallways. Outside, a black shape caught his attention. "Scott?" He called, gulping. The teen skidded to a halt and turned around._

_"What?"_

_"He sees us." Stiles whispered. The creature roared, bounding off the roof across the field and landing on the one above them._

_"Run!" Scott yelled, tugging him along. Stiles found it odd how easily he caught up to his friend. He wasn't a werewolf, how was he this fast?_

_"Scott, something's wrong." He stopped, turning around._

_"Stiles, what are you doing? That thing's coming after us." Scott's voice seemed to echo off the walls._

_"This...this isn't right." Stiles shook his head. "You're not a werewolf."_

_"Yes I am! What are you talking about? Stiles, let's go!" Scott insisted._

_"No...this-"_

_"STILES RUN!" It was Derek. Stiles whirled around to face the man. He was a bit younger, trademark leather jacket on, and clean shaven, for once._

_"Derek?" Stiles whispered. And then the creature was behind him. It roared, the sound bouncing off the walls and shaking the building. Stiles winced, covering his ears. And then the thing stabbed its claws into Derek's back. "DEREK!" Stiles screaming, his knees shaking. He couldn't move, couldn't run. He could hardly breathe._

_The claws poked through the front of him, blood quickly spreading on the flimsy white cotton of his shirt. Dark crimson dripped from Derek's mouth, his eyes wide._

_"NO!"_

_"Stiles-"_

_"Derek!"_

_"Stiles, it's-"_

_"No no no. No!"_

"STILES WAKE UP!" It was almost a roar, and the teacher's eyes flew open to see bright blue ones staring down at him, and for a second, all he could see was the creature. He screamed, flailing. Before he knew it he got a face full of carpet. His heart was racing, breath coming out short and shallow. He closed his eyes. "Stiles?"

"Don't." He croaked when he felt hands slide under him.

"Don't pick you up?" He could almost hear the raised eyebrow in the man's voice, underneath all the concern.

"No." He rolled over so that his back was on the floor and tried to take a deep breath. His lungs didn't seem to want to do that until he made sure Derek was okay. The image of the werewolf with blood dripping down his mouth and stomach may be permanently burned into Stiles' retinas.

"Stiles, breathe." He opened his eyes.

Derek was okay. His eyebrows were raised in concern and the corners of his mouth were tugged down in a frown, but he was okay. Stiles could almost cry. He nodded, taking a breath as Derek instructed. He held it for a few seconds, staring into Derek's pale green eyes. And then he let it go. "Better?"

"Getting there."

"Another nightmare?" He nodded. "What was it about?"

"You don't need to know"

"Stiles, you...you screamed my name. You sounded terrified. I know this might be tough for you, but you have to talk about shit like this. You won't get better if you don't." Derek pleaded. Stiles sat up. Derek extended a hand, helping him up. Stiles ended up pressed against his chest, his face in the other man's neck. Derek was only about two inches taller, but he always looked a lot taller to Stiles.

"I know." He sighed. "I know. Just...later, okay?"

Derek was silent for a moment. "Okay." Derek snaked an arm around his waist, the other going to his hair and running his fingers through it. Stiles closed his eyes and chuckled.

"You really like doing that, don't you?" Derek froze.

"I can stop if you-"

"No. Don't."

They stood there for a while. Stiles almost feel asleep again where they stood. Derek played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and he sighed.

"You're like a cat." Derek laughed.

"Am not." Stiles muttered into the man's shirt. His hands were in the back pockets of Derek's jeans, and they were swaying a bit.

"Oh really?" Stiles barely caught he mischievous tone to his voice. Derek slowly trailed his finger down Stiles' spine, and he shivered, letting out a small moan. "Then what was that?"

"N-not a purr." Stiles stuttered. "M' not a cat."

"Then what are you?"

"Wolf." He whispered, yawning again.

"You're tired, that's what you are. You haven't been sleeping much have you." Stiles knew it wasn't a question.

"No."

"You should go to bed then."

"M' about to fall asleep right here." Stiles whispered.

"I'd carry you, but I remember someone whining about not being a damsel in distress, so-"

"You mock my pain." Stiles grumbled.

 "'Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something'." Stiles froze.

"Have you been saving your dorky-ness from me for until we got together? Because that's three quotes right there. First Buffy, then firefly, and now The Princess Bride. Honestly, I thought you didn't even know what a tv was." Stiles thought for a moment. "I'm not buttercup."

"You're absolutely buttercup." Derek huffed. And then, in one swift movement, Derek had Stiles cradled against his chest, one arm under his knees and the other under his back.

"Hey!"

"You're going to bed."

"Derek-"

"I get the feeling you've only been sleeping about ten hours a week, and I'm probably right, so you're going to sleep."

"Will you stay?" Stiles wondered, blush creeping up his cheeks. He sounded like a little kid, but he didn't want to have another nightmare like that and wake up to find Derek not there. The werewolf stared down at him, stepping into Stiles' room.

"I'm not leaving you." He said finally. So Stiles let him tuck him in like a child, and Derek crawled under the covers with him. Fully clothed, which should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. It was cold out, and Stiles kept forgetting to turn on the heater, but Derek's body was like a furnace, and Stiles learned a while ago to just accept the fact that he was the little spoon. So he fell asleep with Derek's arm around his waist and their legs tangled together, and this time, when he dreamt about her, he didn't wake up screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek woke up a few minutes after midnight. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but Stiles was so _soft_ , and so was his bed, and Derek had been so damn comfortable. Now, however, Stiles was curled up in a shivering ball at Derek's side, his head on Derek's chest and an arm curled around his waist. Derek ran his hand over the goose bumps on the pale flesh.

"Damn it." He muttered. "He forgot to turn on the heater."

Derek heard something clatter in the kitchen. Which meant Scott was home. If he hadn't sensed Derek's presence or noticed his scent all over their couch, he would now.

The werewolf did his best not to wake the sleeping man as he climbed out of bed and stretched. He couldn't really feel the cold, (the internal werewolf furnace, as Stiles said just before he passed out) so he didn't bother putting on his jacket as he went to turn on the heater.

"Derek?" Scott called from the kitchen. Derek grunted, walking into the room and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Talking to Stiles." Derek replied.

"Is he...okay?" Scott wondered.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Because I don't know if he would answer me, you know?" Scott sighed, taking a bite of a granola bar. "You know him. He's always trying to hide the bad stuff, trying to protect everyone."

"I don't know him as well as you do." Derek admitted. Scott gave a small nod.

"Where is he anyway?" Scott sat down on one of the stools and turned on the TV. It amazed Derek how little Scott noticed. Obviously, Scott was smart. He was going to be a god damned surgeon, for Christ sake. But when it came to stuff like this, he was absolutely oblivious.

 "I'll go get him."

When Derek went back to the room, Stiles was still curled up in a ball, drooling on his pillow. Derek chuckled. "Stiles." He sat on the bed and shook him gently. Stiles groaned. "Come on, get up. It's midnight, and you haven't eaten all day."

"Go away Der." He mumbled.

"Don't call me that."

"Call you whatever I wanna." Derek rolled his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Stiles' ear.

"You. Need. To. Eat." Stiles shivered.

"Nuh uh. Sleep." He grumbled, turning to bury his face in the pillow. Derek sighed. He was kind-of-maybe-dating a giant five year old.

Derek would have been happy to let him sleep. But Stiles had lost weight. It was noticeable. Which meant he hardly ate in their month apart. So he needed to get up and start eating normal amounts of food again.

He got an idea. He flipped Stiles over, and before the man had a chance to complain, he kissed him. Stiles flailed for a moment before kissing back.

"Dude, I haven't even brushed my teeth." Stiles sputtered when Derek pulled back.

"I don't care." He said simply. "And don't call me dude."

Stiles stared up at him, sadness and shock making their way through the bond _. I did something wrong._ "Stiles?"

"You don't, do you?" He whispered. Stiles was freaking out because Derek kissed him before he brushed his teeth?

"No?"

"Sorry." Stiles said after a moment. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and yawned. "I just...remembered something."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Stiles said. He seemed to consider it for a moment. "Surprisingly."

"Great. Food now." Derek hauled the man up to his feet. Stiles opened his mouth, and Derek guess he was about to say something, but the teacher's stomach beat him to it. "That sounded like a dying animal. And I should know. I've been around dying animals."

"I hate you." He grumbled, shuffling to the kitchen. In the light of his hallway, Derek could see how wrinkled Stiles' clothes were and how messed up his hair was. Brown locks stuck out in various directions. Derek chuckled, following him.

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe Stiles should have waited until later to pass out. Because it was lunch hour now and he was fucking exhausted.

"Hey snowflake." Sara plopped down in front of him and gave him one of her dazzling smiled.

Stiles had met Sara during his month of...avoiding everyone. She was a new teacher with a degree in history and had somehow managed to befriend Stiles. He didn't know how she put up with his moody ass for that long.

"I told you not to call me that." He said tiredly.

"Can't help it. You're just so white." She giggled. "You look tired as hell."

"That would be a correct assumption." He sighed. "How did you put up with my shit all month?"

"I'm a black woman from one of the most racist states in America. My tolerance for bullshit has reached supernatural proportions." She informed him. He laughed.

"Yeah, well, I think it's safe to say you won't have to put up with it anymore."

"Finally suck face with tall dark and handsome?"

"I did not suck his face." Stiles rolled his eyes. "How did you even know I wanted to kiss him? I distinctly remember telling you I did not want to be around him anymore, for fear that when I died, I'd end up in the deepest pit in hell."

"And I remember telling you I'm very good at seeing through people's bullshit." She grabbed his coffee and took a sip. "Have you made up with the red head?"

"Fuck, Lydia. I haven't spoken to her in over month. She's going to be so pissed." Stiles dropped his head in his hands. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Now or never sweetie."

 

* * *

 

 

After class, Stiles ignored the urge to throw himself into Derek's arms and drove his beat up blue jeep over to Lydia's. She wasn't home, of course. He was debating whether or not to leave a note on the door or wait for her or something when Jackson opened the door and narrowed his eyes at him.

Now Jackson, though he had become a lot less of an asshole and a lot nicer since high school, was still a scary son of bitch when he was pissed. Not nearly as scary as Lydia, but to Stiles, he was scary enough. He was shorter, but stronger and faster, as proven by the many times he beat Stiles' ass in lacrosse.

"Stilinski." He padded out to the car, barefoot, which Stiles thought was ridiculous because it was fucking 30 degrees out.

"Whittmore." _Now or never._

"What took you so long?" The blonde grumbled, turning to enter the house. Stiles sighed, following.

"I had a lot of shit to deal with, okay? Still do. And I know I was an ass. But I-"

"I get it. I do. You think I don't have problems? I haven't said I love you to my parents since I was eleven, and, for a brief period of time, I was so stressed I started hallucinating." What? "But you should have called, texted, something! Lydia has been worried sick about you. You didn't answer and of her calls or messages, and that bonehead Scott said you weren't at the apartment. We were beginning to think you offed yourself."

"I..." Stiles sank down to the couch. "Well, you're half right." Jackson's eyes widened just a bit.

"Stiles-" using what Jackson thought was his first name always meant the former bully was about to get serious.

"I'm...I'll just wait here for her." He stopped him. Because he didn't want pity from Jackson Fucking Whittmore. Jackson seemed to understand.

"Want anything? I have pie."

"If you made it? No thanks." Stiles tried to keep it light.

"Actually, Danny dropped it off an hour ago."

"I think I'll have some actually, thanks." He stood up and went to the kitchen to get a slice of pie.

And that's how Lydia found them half an hour later, eating pie and reminiscing about freshman year lacrosse try outs on her thousand dollar kitchen table. Stiles dropped the small smile he had on his face the moment he saw her. She paused at the entrance of the room. Stiles could name almost every expression that passed over her face. Shock. Relief. Concern. And lastly, anger. She pressed her lips into a firm line, put a delicate hand over her hip, and furrowed her perfect brows.

 "Jackson? I need you to go to our room for a moment." She sounded eerily calm, and Stiles gulped.

"If she kills you, I'm eating the rest of that pie." Jackson whispered, taking his plate and disappearing up the steps. There were a few moments of awkward silence before Stiles opened his mouth to speak. "Don't." Lydia stopped him. "I haven't decided whether I'm going to hug you or stab you with my stiletto." She snapped. Stiles nodded, biting his lip and bouncing his leg on the floor.

It was a full four minutes before she spoke again. "It's been over a month, Stiles. A month."

"I know, Lydia, I-"

"The least you could have done was call. Text me, even. A 'hey, don't worry Lydia, I'm still _breathing'_ would have been nice. I'm been worried out of my fucking mind."

"Lyds, I-"

"I gave you your space, but this has been too long. What the hell were you doing?" He waited until he was sure she was done to answer. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

"I had a lot of shit to work through." He started slowly. "I haven't...haven't exactly worked through any of it... I realized a bit too late that ignoring all of you guys wasn't really helping me. Well, actually, someone screamed it at me." He sighed. "Look, I know I was an asshole for exploding and then walking out like that. It was stupid, and it shouldn't have-"

"I just wanted you to be okay." She whispered. He looked up from his flailing hands to see her walking over, looking like she was about to cry. And Lydia Martin didn't cry for just anyone. To have her she'd a single tear for you was an honor. So Stiles felt pretty damn special (and guilty) right now.

"Lydia-" she pulled him into a bone crushing hug, burying her face in his chest. "I'm never going to be okay." He muttered. She looked up at him.

"I know that. I didn't mean...I just want you to be as close to okay as you can be. Don't push me away. Please."

"I promise." He hoped he was telling the truth. She smiled at him, pulling away and dabbing at her eyes.

"God. I almost fucked up my makeup."

"Can't have that now can we?" Stiles grinned. She rolled her eyes.

"So...you said someone screamed it at you?" She wondered. He knew she would pick up on that.

"Yeah...Derek, actually." He admitted, a blush crawling up his cheeks. _Derek Hale_. Still couldn't get over that.

"Are you two-"

"We don't know what we are." He sighed. "Apparently, I decide what we are. But I don't know what I want us to be! I mean, we kissed. More than once, actually, though it took me a while to remember the first time. And he's...great, really great, but I still feel so fucking guilty! My girlfriend of seven years died, and then four months later I'm dating someone new?! After her death was kind of my fault anyway? That's just...I don't know. That's just the least of my problems right now though. My best friend is a freaking w-" Stiles clamped his jaw shut. But Lydia caught it, like she catches everything. Because she's Lydia Martin.

"Scott's a what?" She questioned, stepping closer to him. He couldn't keep anything from her, she knew that. He tried. He always failed. He would tell her eventually. And maybe Derek wouldn't be too happy about it, but he had to tell her.

"Lydia...there's something I need to tell you." He gulped.

"What is it?"

"You know those stories and myths I talk about in class?" She nodded. "Some of them...not really myths."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek could faintly sense the hesitance and anxiety that came from Stiles' end of the bond. But it didn't seem that bad, and there was some relief there too, so Derek ignored it and continued filling out his résumé.

He hadn't had a job since he was 24 and he'd moved back to New York to get away from the mess the Alpha Pack had caused. He'd worked as a tutor for a high school, helping with everything from calculus to history. Everything but the arts. Laura was the one for that. But she wasn't there anymore.

"Why are you getting a job? With the amount of money we have saved up and the way we live, we're never going to run out." Cora asked around a mouth full of pizza. He scowled at her.

"I'd at least like to leave some money for any possible future generations." Derek replied. Cora coughed.

"Uh, Der, I hope you don't mean me, cause I've got some news for you."

"Cora, you already told me you're asexual. Doesn't mean you will never ever find love, just means it's rare. And I wasn't just talking about you." He rolled his eyes. She stared at him like he grew an extra arm in the middle of his chest. "What?"

"Just started dating the guy and you're already planning on having little munchkins with him? Jeez bro, keep it in your pants." He growled at her.

"You know that's not how-"

"Like at least wait a few years man, seriously." She laughed when he lunged at her. He grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, as if she weighed the same as a pillow. "Put me down!" She laughed.

"Sorry Cor, you brought this on yourself." He informed her, taking her from the kitchen counter and dumping her on the couch. He promptly began to tickle her, and for one small second, it felt like he did before the fire, playing with his baby sister to distract her from the full moon.  And she must have remembered it two, because they both stilled.

"I miss this." She whispered.

"Me too." He sighed, sitting down. The guilt began to eat at him again, like it always did. She grinned at him.

"Things are good now. So no need to frown, it ages you."

"Wow." He snorted. She got up and stretched.

"I'm going to turn in early. Didn't get much sleep last night finishing up Stiles' project." She yawned.

"G'night munchkin." He smirked.

"Night Der-bear." She called, laughing when he growled.

"I'm going to kill him for telling you that." And then his phone rang.

 _Speak of the devil_. Derek thought. _The really hot, pale, ADHD devil_.

"Derek?!" Stiles said frantically into the phone. Derek tensed.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" For a second, he thought maybe it was happening all over again. Hunters had Stiles, and he would get hurt again.

"I had to tell her. It slipped, and she was giving me this _look_ , and if I didn't she'd just go digging-"

"What?" He interrupted the man's quick chatter.

"Lydia. I told her. About...the pack." Oh.

Derek didn't know what to think of this. Because, from what Stiles told Derek about the red head, she was great at keeping secrets, intelligent, and incredibly perceptive. So it should be okay, if she didn't react badly. At the same time, Stiles had told someone else about the pack. About Derek, and Cora, and Scott. And the wolf in him was angry, because he trusted Stiles- who was also a member of the pack- and Stiles betrayed him. So he kept quiet until he found the right words to say. "Derek?" Stiles squeaked. The werewolf pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh.

"How...how did she react?"

"She told me she needed a minute and then went outside."

"Did she leave?"

"No, she's standing outside staring at my jeep." _Wonderful_.

"Stiles..." He sighed again. "Okay, call me back later."

"What?! Derek, I- I didn't mean to- I've told her everything since high school, I didn't-"

"It's okay." He said softly, not wanting to send Stiles into a panic attack. "I'm not mad." He was kind of mad. But this was Stiles. He didn’t do anything too bad, anyway.

"I know you're lying." Stiles told him. "But- she's coming."

"I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay." Stiles hung up.

Derek leaned back on the couch and sighed, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sara. She's important. Don't forget about her.
> 
> Lydia finally found out! and yup, Cora is ace. I have two asexual friends, and they haven't told me much about it really, but one of them is in a relationship, so i know its not impossible. Cora might not care whether or not she ever gets married or finds someone or whatever, but Derek has always hoped that she could, mostly because he wouldn't be able to live with himself if the Hale family ended with them (because, again, he blames himself for their death).
> 
> Also, I have never smoked, so im just going off stuff I've read and things my aunt (who does smoke) has told me. The next chapter talks about it a bit, and feel free to correct anything that's wrong.


	16. The meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs a distraction. Derek meets Sara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ADDED NEW TAGS
> 
> please read them. They are important.

Stiles knew he would regret letting Derek take all his cigarettes. Sure, it seemed like a kind of okay idea at the time, but it was three days later, a Saturday, and he was going out of his mind. He was starving, but he ate like two hours ago. Two and a half bowls of cereal. Two and a half. He'd had a headache since yesterday (and it was only getting worse), even with Adderall it was hard to focus in the papers he was grading, and he was unreasonably irritable today. Just an hour ago, he'd snapped at Kira for taking the bowl from him. She was offering to clean his dishes and he _yelled_ at her. See the problem?

"So, what's up with you and Derek?" Scott wondered, glancing up from his text book.

"Why do you care?" He growled, eyes flitting from his papers to the fridge to Scott.

"Someone got off on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Scott mumbled.

"I may not have super werewolf hearing, but I'm not fucking deaf. You're two feet away from me Scott." He snapped. The werewolf frowned at him.

"What's your problem?" Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at the sides of his head.

 "I...I'm sorry buddy. I'm just kind of...irritable lately." Stiles dropped his head on the counter.

"It's okay." Scott assured him. "Seriously though, Derek's been here almost every day since Thursday, and I know he's not here for me, so-"

"We're dating, I think." Stiles blurted. He looked up to see Scott's shocked face.

"Woah." His best friend blinked. "I...honestly, I kind of expected it to happen a little later." Scott admitted.

"Dude!" Stiles gaped at him. Scott just smiled innocently and looked at his phone.

"Would you look at the time? Kira and I are gonna be later for our thing." He closed his book and hoped off the stool. At that moment, Derek walked through the front door, clad in yet another dark Henley and worn old black jeans. Scott nodded at him as he made his way to the door.

"Use a condom!" Stiles yelled after him. Derek frowned.

"What?" He came over and looked down at the papers before him. He'd started grading them after breakfast, but so far he'd gotten through four. It was just a quiz. He could have done this in an hour.

"This is all your fault." He pouted, swiveling the stool around to face him. Derek raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile on his lips.

"What is?"

"This!" Stiles gestured to everything around him as if it was obvious. Derek just smiled a little more. "I'm starving, okay? And I can't focus, but I had my Adderall already, and my head hurts, and...and...what?" Derek was just watching him. "What's that face for?"

"You're really cute when you’re irritable, you know that?" Derek said. Stiles glared at him.

"You're buying me cake. Like, a whole cake. Right now. I-" Derek silenced him by leaning forward, resting his hands on Stiles' upper thighs. Which, you know, wouldn't be that distracting if a) he wasn't incredibly distracted right now, and b) he was in his boxers. Derek's hands were creeping under the soft plaid fabric and his hands were so warm and-

"If you're really that hungry, we could go out for lunch right now." Derek muttered, grinning at him. Their faces were an inch away, and there was no way the werewolf couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating at the moment. “Or…"

"O-or?" Stiles gulped.

"Or we could stay here and I could make you something." Derek leaned back and smirked at him. "I'm a pretty decent chef, you know." Stiles gaped at him, cheeks flushed.

"You- you know what? You're an assh-" the older man snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him against his chest right before he kissed him. Derek's other hand was gently cupping his face, as if he was made of glass, and Stiles didn't know how he felt about that. Not that it really mattered at the moment, because _fuck_ , Derek's tongue could do amazing things. He bit the man's lower lip, sucking on it as he wrapped his legs around Derek's hips and his arms around his neck.

He took great pride in knowing he could coax these tiny moans out of him.

"You know you have to breathe, eventually." Derek said against his lips. Stiles pulled back.

"And you don't?" He gasped.

"I do, but I liked kissing you a lot more." He breathed, leaning down and sucking at his neck. Stiles moaned, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.  Derek's hands moved down to his hips, fingers teasing the edge of his boxers. When his hand brushed the scar on his hips, he shivered. "I almost forgot you had that." He murmured against his neck.

"Me too." Stiles whispered. "Pretty badass though, right?" Derek chuckled.

"Sure." He then decided to suck at Stiles' collar bone, and all coherent thought was out the window. He gasped, and Derek stopped and looked up at him. "Okay?"

"F-fine." He stuttered, nodding. Derek smirked, then continued what he was doing, bringing one hand up to brush his thumb over his _oh my god_ -

Worst time for the phone to ring.

"Ignore it." Derek whispered into his ear, their chests almost flush against each other. Stiles nodded, grabbing the man's face in both hands and pressing their lips together. He didn't really know if this would end up where he thought it would, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for...that...yet, but-

The phone rang again. Stiles groaned.

"Shut up!" He snarled at the phone, irritability coming back just as bad as before. He pushed Derek back and trudged to his room, managing to answer it before it was too late. "What?" He snapped.

"What's got your briefs in a twist, snowflake?" Sara laughed into the phone. Stiles sighed.

"Something really...awesome...was happening, and this phone call interrupted it. So what? What do you want?"

"Wow. Someone's feisty today."

"Sara-"

"Fine fine. I wanna know if you want to go out tonight?" She asked him. He frowned.

"Tonight's a full moon." He muttered. She heard him.

"Well yeah, but what does that matter? I wanna go to a bar, and it'll be a lot more fun with my favorite buddy there with me."

"Nothing, I just-"

"Don't tell me you're superstitious. Because, honestly, the mythology thing's cool and all, but-"

"No." Stiles said quickly. "I-I'm not. Superstitious, that is. I've just...got- Never mind. I think I can make it, yeah."

"Great! Meet me at Mãhealani's at eight?"

"Yeah, sure." He thought for a moment. "Hey, I know the owner."

"Even better." She laughed. "Later snowflake."

"Don't call me that." He hung up, returning to the kitchen. Derek was stirring something in a pan. "Food." Stiles breathed. His stomach rumbled.

"Who was calling?"

"Just Sara." Stiles when over to inspect what he was doing. "Mmm, pancakes. Not as good as real cakes, which is what I asked for, but-"

"Sara?" Derek wondered.

"Yeah." _Right_. Derek didn't know about her. "Right, uh...I met her after break, while we were..." Stiles trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"Huh." Derek narrowed his eyes at the pancakes, almost accusingly, and Stiles was about to comment on it when Derek lifted him off the floor and planted his butt firmly on the counter.

"Hey!" Stiles frowned. "What was that?"

"Not smoking at made you really cranky." Derek observed.

"You don't say?" He rolled his eyes. Scott told him these symptoms were common, and that he was lucky he wasn't throwing up everywhere, but he was still pissed. "Can't I just have _one_? Can't it be like, a gradual thing? I _promise_ -" Derek fixed him with a glare while he put the pancakes on a plate.

"No. You've been doing fine."

"I'm going insane!" Stiles flailed on the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek had forgotten how much Stiles talked. He'd gotten used to the silence of his loft. But Stiles filled it with mindless chatter about his life and school and other things, and he never really excepted Derek to answer. There was a time, not long ago, Derek would have growled at him to shut up, and stop moving. But he liked it. His voice drowned out the things he didn't want to think about, and it was nice seeing Stiles happy.

Every few hours, he'd lapse into silence. Derek could sense he was upset, probably thinking about the very things that made him avoid them all for so long. So Derek would kiss him, or start talking, and it wasn't long before Stiles started babbling again.

"I almost forgot!" Stiles shot off of the couch. "Sara wanted me to go out with her tonight!"

"Tonight's the full moon." Derek warned. "I should go with you."

"I don't know..." Stiles stood up. "I'll ask her if it's okay." Derek nodded while Stiles went to get his phone.

From Stiles told him, Sara was fairly new. She'd been spending a lot of time with Stiles, which was kind of odd, because they'd known each other for only a few weeks and they'd gone out quite a few times, but Stiles seemed to like her. So Derek should meet her. He'd met Lydia.

Lydia. Boy, was that a hard one.

_"So let me get this straight." The red-head said. "Your favorite student, who just so happens to be a Hale, is a werewolf, and so is her brother, who you're currently kind of dating. Said student bit Scott, your best friend, shortly after you found out. And since then, you've been chased after by werewolf hunters, an omega, and an honest to god wendigo, of all things. Which is why Stiles has been carved into, shot at, and thrown into things, landing him in the hospital. Twice."_

_"W-well, to be fair, the second time was an animal hospital." Stiles stuttered. Lydia shot him a glare. Derek had arrived just minutes before, as per Stiles' request._

_"Unbelievable." The woman muttered. "That's just...ridiculous."_

_"I have proof!" Stiles scrambled off the couch, going to Derek, who was standing behind the couch. "Derek, do that thing with your face."_

_"Shift?" Derek asked, almost smirking at Stiles' frustrated expression._

_"Yes. Shift. Now please." He rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked. Lydia didn't even blink._

_"Amazing." She muttered. "Stiles has been running around with werewolves. Of course."_

"She wants to meet you." Stiles said, coming back into the room.

"Great." He got up.

"I'll...I'll go change now." Stiles said. Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Need help?" He asked, eyes briefly resting on his plaid boxers. Stiles blushed, and Derek could hear his heartbeat quicken.

"Uh..." Stiles bit his lip. "Okay, is it just me or have you decided to be one giant tease today?"

"Full moon." He shrugged, grabbing his hips and pressing him flush against his chest. Stiles gasped at him, a nice shade of pink on his cheeks.

"Full moon makes you horny?"

"Not normally." He beamed at him, resting his forehead against the younger man's. "But you really are adorable."

"You-remind-me-of-my-little-nephew adorable or I-want-to-bend-you-over-a-table adorable?" Stiles asked, clearly flustered. Derek rolled his eyes, moving to press a kiss to his neck, right over his fluttering pulse.

"What do you think?" He muttered.

"O-oh." The teacher's grip on his shoulders tightened. "Y-you know, how am I- _fuck_." Derek pulled his boxers down a fraction of an inch.

"What was that?" Derek chuckled.

"-am I supposed to e-explain all these hickeys I'm sure I have now." Stiles laughed. Derek stopped licking up the man's jaw to look at him.

"I don't know what you-" he glanced down at his neck. "-they're not that bad." He finished, looking at the purple bruises on his collar bone and along his jugular. It was a dark contrast to his pale skin.

"I can't believe you gave me hickeys." He rolled his eyes. "Are you twelve? I have work!"

"We could argue..." Derek shrugged. He grinned at him then, hauling him up and putting his hands under his ass. Stiles made a surprised sound and wrapped his legs around Derek's hips.

"Oh my god." Stiles breathed.

"So, help changing?"

"Definitely."

Admittedly, he didn't think pressing Stiles' back against the wall of his dark bedroom and stripping off his shirt was the type of changing the younger man had in mind. But he was technically helping him get out of his clothes, so...

"Derek." He panted, squirming under his hands. Derek paused, looking up at him.

"This is okay, right?"

"Yeah, god, this..." Stiles swallowed. "This is fine. It's just...it's 8:20. We're late."

 _Oh_. Derek frowned.

"Right."

 

* * *

 

 

They arrived forty minutes later than the original meeting time, and Sara was glaring angrily at him when he sat down next to her.

"For Christ sakes Stilinski, its seventy degrees in here, there no need for a scarf and heavy winter jacket." Was the first thing she said.

"I'm so sorry." Stiles sighed. "We uh...we got distracted." Stiles glanced over shoulder at the door.

"We?" She quirked a perfect dark eyebrow up.

"Derek. My...person." He ignored the look she gave him. "Remember?"

"You're person. Right." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously snowflake, take off the jacket."

"I can't." He blushed. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"So you got distracted huh?" She nodded. "Take off the scarf."

"Sara-”

"Scarf, little man. Now, or I'll wrestle it off ya. You know I will." She held out a hand. He sighed.

"I hate you so much right now." He grumbled, unwrapping the scarf. He knew he'd have to eventually, the heat in the bar was getting to him and his face already felt like it was on fire. She laughed when she looked up at his neck.

"Oh my god. Please tell me you're 'person' is not some lame high schooler." She snickered.

"He is not! He's-" Stiles turned around and grinned as Derek, all scowls and brooding and pale green eyes, walked into the bar and gave him a small smile. "He's right there."

"Oh my god." Sara whistled. " _Christ_ , you did not tell me you were dating a fucking _Greek god_. I mean, wow." Stiles groaned and dropped his head on the counter. Derek probably- no, definitely heard that comment.

"I'm not dating him." Stiles mumbled. Derek put a hand on a shoulder. "We are not dating." He snapped at him. Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Okay." He said simply. Sara laughed.

Stiles could feel Derek tense beside him, and he could have sworn he heard him...growl. Stiles glanced up at him and yup, there it was, his trademark scowl. Except...he actually looked kind of threatening. He stepped forward a bit, and Stiles was half behind him.

"Sara, this is Derek. Derek, this my _friend_ , Sara." Stiles told him, putting a hand on his bicep. Derek's gaze softened, and he stepped back. _What was that?_

"Nice to meet the guy that sentsnowflake here into a fit of depression." Sara said. Derek's scowl deepened, if that was possible.

"Sara, don't be an ass. It wasn't his fault." Stiles frowned. Sara rolled her eyes and gave Derek a light bunch.

"I was only joking, big guy." Stiles relaxed a bit. "Three shots of tequila!" she called.

"I don't want any." Derek said a bit too sweetly, smiling at her.

"Not a big drinker, Der?"

"No."

"Hey, I'm the only one that calls him that." Stiles pouted. Derek grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Stiles felt a blush crawl up his cheeks.

"Right."

Derek was tense the whole time. Stiles kept shooting him concerned looks, but Derek just smiled a little and rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand every time. So Stiles kept talking with Sara and trying to include the brooding werewolf in the conversation, though he never said more than a few sentences to her.

When the night finally ended, Stiles was...a little less than drunk, and Sara was warning Derek that if he ever hurt him, she'd kick his ass. Then she forced him to give Derek the keys to his jeep and called herself a cab. Leaving Stiles drunk, confused, and a little pissed.

"What is your problem?!" He growled, ripping his hand out of Derek's.

"You're drunk." He huffed.

"And you're a fucking asshole! What _was_ that?! All you did was glare at her all night!" Stiles started stomping towards the car. Derek hurried after him.

"She smelled like gun powder, Stiles. Do you know who else smells like gunpowder?"

"I dunno, people from Texas?" He snapped, ripping open the car door.

"Hunters." Stiles was too drunk to get what Derek was saying. He was just pissed he acted like such a fucking douche in front of the only friend he had on campus.

"Maybe she just owns a gun. Ever think of that one, _big guy_?!"

"Stiles..." Derek stood in front of the open door. Stiles glared at him.

"Don't try those damn puppy eyes with me. I'm pissed at you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Just...take me home." He muttered. Derek frowned at him, but nodded, getting into the driver’s side and starting up the car.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek rolled them over on the bed so that he was on top of the younger man, putting as much of his weight on him that he could tolerate. Stiles wrapped his legs around his waist, pressing them together. _He likes doing that_ Derek noted.

"You know...I'm still...pissed at you...for being...an ass...tonight." Stiles panted between kisses.

"Can we not talk about that now?" Derek sighed, pulling back a bit to look him in the face.

"We have to talk about it event-" he moved to tease at a nipple with his teeth, and Stiles groaned. "Okay- _fuck_ \- shutting up now." Derek chuckled, bringing a hand up and resting it just above his waist. He didn't really expect Stiles to flail and squirm and giggle at that.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, stopping to look up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and he was biting his lip.

"Y-yeah." Stiles nodded. Derek raised an eyebrow (he felt that the longer he stayed around the pale teacher, the more his face was at risk of staying that way). "It's just...I'm really ticklish." Stiles blushed harder.

"Oh really?" Derek grinned, digging his fingers into Stiles' ribs a bit. A short burst of laughter erupted from the other man's mouth, and he squirmed.

"D-Derek!" He laughed as the werewolf sat up, tickling all over his torso. He tried to flip himself onto his stomach, but Derek helped him in place, stopping for a second to let him breathe. "You're evil!"

"I try." Derek smirked. "Your face is a little red." He leaned down to press their lips together.

"Derek-" Stiles pushed gently at his chest. He quickly got off him, and Stiles sat up. Derek could sense he was guilty, but he didn't know why.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, reaching forward to try and comfort him. Stiles flinched, scrambling off the bed. "Stiles?"

"I-I'm gonna...go shower." The teacher nodded. "Yeah. You can...you can go, if you want."

"Stiles-"

"I'm fine." He lied. "Just...please go." He leaned down and gave him a quick, caste kiss on his cheek. Derek just stared at him, shocked. "I'll call you tomorrow." He sniffled.

"Are you sure?" Derek eyed him warily.

"Yeah." He nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow." And then he left.

 

* * *

 

 

Little Red.

_Little red._

Stiles felt like he was going to throw up. Not because of Derek, _god_...Derek was great. He was perfect. But the second those words left the werewolf's mouth, the guilt he'd been trying to keep at bay came crashing down at him full force. He turned on the shower, not caring how hot it was, and stepped in, closing the curtain. The water turned his skin red, and it was kind of uncomfortable, but he didn't change it. Stiles leaned forward, resting his palms and forehead against the cool tile wall, trying to prevent the panic attack he knew was coming.

He couldn't have sex with Derek, what was he thinking? Not so soon after Malia. _Maybe not ever._

_Oh god._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YUp. 
> 
> Honestly, I almost didn't post this one. I was going to change everything about it. But you know what, fuck it, here it is. I'm almost done writing the last few chapters, so, I should be posting them soon.
> 
> I'm sorry I suck at writing porn


	17. He's sick, dumbass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not magic

Stiles woke up screaming. Scott ran into to try and comfort him, but the screaming stopped abruptly when Stiles felt the bile rise in his throat and the image he'd seen in his nightmare came to the front of his mind. He scrambled off his bed and raced to the bathroom, almost missing the toilet as he threw up last night's small dinner.

After a full minute of heaving and coughing and sputtering, he closed his eyes and rested his sweat covered forehead on the cool porcelain.

"Stiles?" Scott called warily from the bathroom doorway.

"M' fine." he muttered, not opening his eyes. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Are you-"

"Go, Scott." He insisted. He heard his best friend footsteps disappear into the living room.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he leaned over the bowl again, thought nothing really came up. He coughed some more, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the seat. _Fuck_. He rested his head against the side of the toilet again, weakly reaching up to flush it. He didn't know if it was the gruesome image he saw or the pounding headache he had that caused him to throw up. Maybe it was both. Or maybe it was something else.

"Christ." Lydia's familiar voice was muffled by the closed bathroom door.

"He threw up. Twice." Scott informed her. Stiles groaned as the door opened.

"You look like shit." The strawberry blonde commented. Stiles just licked his chapped lips and tried to sit up. He was too dizzy, and gave up after a second. He didn't even open his eyes. A cold hand brushed his forehead, and he leaned into the touch. "Stiles, you're burning up."

"So does that mean I'm hot?" He mumbled, smiling at little. It just ended in a grimace. He opened his eyes a bit, squinting.

"No time for jokes." She shook her head. "I'm serious. You're face feels like fire. You need to go back to bed."

"Can't." he moaned. A terrible pain started somewhere in his lower stomach, and he yelped, curling in on himself.

"This is bad." She stood up. "Scott! A little help!" She called.

"Shit, Stiles." Scott's voice was in his ear a second later. "You're burning."

"I'm aware." He grunted.

"You smell off." Scott noticed. He tried to pry Stiles' arms away from his stomach, but he just whimpered in response. He knew Scott could do it if he really wanted to, but he left him alone. "I'm calling Derek."

"You think this is...magical?" Lydia wondered. Stiles moaned again, resting his side on the cold bathroom floor.

"It's something! If it's magical, we can't really bring him to the hospital!" Scott said, sounding a bit panicked.

"Fine. Call him. I'm getting some ice." Stiles closed his eyes, breathing shallow. A few seconds later, something cold was pressed against his forehead, and he let out a soft gasp.

He didn't remember drifting off. Maybe he hadn't, maybe it was just a huge blur. But when he opened his eyes, Derek's face was hovering over his, worry emanating from him. The werewolf wasn't looking at him, but his hand was rubbing small, soothing circles into Stiles' back. When had Derek picked him up?

"...not magical, Scott." Derek sounded exasperated. "He's got some stomach virus."

"What? How do you know?!" He heard Scott ask.

"Because I can smell it on him, dumbass. You can too." He could almost see the man's angry expression.

"Oh." Stiles would have laughed if he didn't still feel like throwing up. He squirmed in Derek's arms, reaching for the toilet behind him. _I don't want him to see me like this. I'm gross and sweaty and I probably smell like vomit._ He thought absently.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed." Derek hauled him to his feet. He swayed where he stood, and the werewolf put his hands on his waist to steady him.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles melt like vomit and sweat and alcohol. He also smelled like watermelons and books, so Derek was able to focus on something aside from that. Once he out the man to bed, he wandered into the kitchen, trying to decide if it was a good idea to give him food or not. He's probably also hung over. Derek thought.

"I'm making soup." Lydia announced, dropping something into a pot on the stove.

"I don't know if he can stomach-"

"It was his mother's favorite." She cut him off. He didn’t speak for a while, watching her flit around the kitchen.

"What happened to her?" He asked quietly. He knew she was dead, because Stiles had told him, and also because everyone in Beacon Hills knew that the sheriff’s wife was dead. But he never said why. Derek hadn't wanted to push him.

"Frontaltemporal dementia. She died when he was nine." She paused. "Mrs. McCall told him it was rare for people under 50, but he gets an MRI every year anyway. I guess it makes him feel better." _Oh_. Derek frowned, looking down at the cold granite counter top.

"When did he start getting them?" He couldn't imagine Sheriff Stilinski agreeing to take his son to be checked for the very same disease that killed his wife. Lydia didn't look back at him, just continued to mix ingredients and stir whatever was in the pot. She seemed to know the recipe by heart. She made it often.

"When he was 18, he went through...a rough patch, you could say. He went to the hospital to talk to Melissa- Scott's mom- about it, and when he told her his symptoms, guess who experienced the same thing before they died?" She asked bitterly.

"His mom." He whispered.

"He turned out to just be incredibly sleep deprived, but it scared him. I remember. I was there." She stepped away and finally turned to face him. "I'm not telling you this because I trust you. Because I don't. Mostly because I just found out you were a werewolf a few days ago, and I'm still kind of processing. But he seems to trust you, so I know he wouldn't be pissed if you found out."

"Thank you." Derek nodded. She seemed satisfied with his reaction and smiled a little, turning to go back to the stove.

When it was done, she handed him a bowl and instructed him to bring it to Stiles. "Force him to eat it if you have to."

"Why would I have to do that?" Derek frowned. She sighed.

"Because I know him. He won't eat because he'll feel like shit, and then he'll forget his meds, and he'll get mopey and quiet and I'll have to come and kick his door down a few days later and teach him how to be a functioning human being again." She grabbed her purse. "I have a job to get to. I'll be back around six to check on him."

"I can take care of him."

"I know." She flashed him a smile. "Later wolf man." Derek growled.

Stiles was shivering on top of a messy pile of blankets when he brought the soup to his room. He was curled into himself and resting on his side, back to the door. Derek set the bowl down on his desk and crouched down next to him.

"Why are you on the floor?" He asked after a second.

"I fell." He replied, like that was obvious. Derek sighed.

"At least cover yourself up. You're shivering."

"I'm not cold."

"Stiles, you're practically vibrating." He slipped a hand under Stiles' knees, the other behind his back, and lifted him off the ground. Stiles fought weakly, opening his eyes.

"Hey! Put me down!"

"You're going to sit on the bed, like a normal person." Derek told him. He set him on the bed and stepped back. Stiles groaned, leaning forward and pressing his hands to his stomach. "You now I can take the pain, right?"

"Then what are you waiting for?" Stiles grumbled, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "I'm not dating you for your incredibly good looks." He scoffed. Derek smirked at him, sitting down next to him.

"I thought we weren't dating. That is, after all, what you said last night." He reminded him. Stiles frowned, closing his eyes and resting his head on Derek's shoulder.

"I was embarrassed. And you were acting weird." He paused. "But, uh, yeah. We're dating." He looked up at him. "I-if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay." Derek huffed, wrapping his free hand around the man's shoulders. He shivered, curling up at the older man's side. "You're so lucky werewolves don't get sick."

"That's so unfair." He pouted.

"Well, we can, actually. But that's usually when we're really weak, and it usually involves a lot of vomiting up black goo and Wolfsbane." Derek explained.

"I'm going to throw up. Stop." Stiles moaned. Derek chuckled. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball.”

“I’m not Chewbacca.” Derek rolled his eyes at him. “Have some soup.”

“Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”

“You have to eat.”

“Later.”

"Soup." Derek thrust the bowl at him. Stiles glared at it for a second before he accepted it.

He didn't even get halfway through it before he was bolting out of the bed, too fast and sudden for Derek to really react. He could hear the man throwing up what little he ate a second later. And he feels angry. Which is stupid, because Stiles is just sick. He hasn't been injured, he's not dying, and no one did this to him. It's not like he can growl at the sickness and it'll go away. That's just dumb. He’d never felt that for anyone before.

Stiles came back just as Derek was about to go and check on him. He whipped his mouth with the back of his shaky hand and collapsed on top of the werewolf, straddling him and burying his face in his neck. Derek just held him, rocking him like he would a child, until he fell asleep. Stiles snored when he was sick. Derek would remember that.

The teacher's phone buzzed on the nightstand next to the abandoned soup, but Stiles was still fast asleep. Derek glanced at it, then closed his eyes, choosing to ignore it. But then it buzzed again.

 

**From Sara:**

**Hey snowflake, wats up**

**Gotta tell me more about that Derek guy**

 

He frowned. Why would she want to know more about him? Derek narrowed his eyes at the words on the screen, stopped the growl that almost escaped his lips. Sara had smelled like gunpowder. It had been faint, and Derek hadn't been sure it was coming from her until she shook his hand before they left. It had definitely been her. Derek didn't want to seem possessive, but he had to look into this girl.

 

**Tell me ur not asleep. It's 1pm**

 

came the other text. Derek actually did growl this time, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned the phone off and tossed it onto the pile of blankets near the bed. Then he pulled out his phone.

 

**To Cora:**

**Cora**

Maybe his sister knew something about her.

**From Cora:**

**It's Sunday. I was sleeping.**

**What?**

**To Cora:**

**What do you know about the new history professor at the college?**

**Her name is Sara.**

 

It took his sister a whole ten minutes to reply, in which Stiles had muttered something about evil Santas and dancing chocolate in his sleep, and Derek had laughed.

 

**From Cora:**

**She's new. I don't know. I don't have her class.**

**Why?**

**Are you leaving Stiles for yet /another/ teacher???**

 

He frowned.

 

**To Cora:**

**That's ridiculous. No. Of course not.**

**I met her last night. She's a friend of Stiles.**

**From Cora:**

**So you're being a creeper and stalking his friends now?**

 

**To Cora:**

**NO**

**stop being difficult**

**I have a bad feeling about her. She smells like gunpowder.**

**From Cora:**

**Half the people here do.**

**I don't know if you noticed, but the town has recently been subjected to several strange animal attacks. Everyone and their grandma carries guns incase they meet a mountain lion when they open the door.**

 

Right. Derek sighed, relaxing a little against the bed board, careful not to jostle the sleeping man on top of him.

 

**From Cora:**

**Stop worrying so much. We're okay here.**

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles woke up to Derek gently running his hands through his hair and rocking him in the bed. He could get used to this. It was almost enough to lull him back to sleep. But then the werewolf put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a bit, smiling at him.

"I knew you were awake."

"Stupid werewolves." He grumbled, glancing at the cold, abandoned soup. "I think I'm kind of hungry now."

"Are you sure you can keep it down this time?" Derek asked him. Stiles grimaced.

"Maybe." He answered honestly. Derek's hands moved to rub up and down his arms. "You know, I never pictured you as a cuddler. I mean, you seemed to really hate physical contact before."

"You seem better." Derek chuckled. He looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he ducked his head. Was he embarrassed? "I uh...I'm marking you." Stiles raised an eyebrow at him (he was getting better at it. Derek was rubbing off on him).

"Marking me?"

"Yeah." Derek nodded. "With...my scent." It took him a moment, but Stiles got it then. He blushed.

"You're rubbing you're scent all over me so...other werewolves know I'm yours?" He wondered. Derek nodded again, not looking at him. "So...Scott and Cora could smell you on me this whole time, couldn't they?"

"Yeah. Though, Scott's so clueless he probably has no idea why you smell like that." Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles laughed, then coughed.

"I feel so old." He wheezed. Derek laughed at him.

"You feel old? I'm dating someone who was barely out of diapers by the time I was in middle school. My entire pack is made out of people who are either still in college or just got out of it." Stiles gaped at him.

"I'll have you know I haven't worn diapers since I was four, okay?" Maybe it was the fact that he still ran a 100.5 fever that kept him from being too embarrassed by that.

"Your father must be so proud." Derek deadpanned. "So, food?"

"Crackers." Stiles nodded. He shakily got off of Derek and planted his feet on the floor. Well, he wasn't swaying or face planting the floor, so that was a good sign. Derek followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. He had a headache, and his stomach still felt kinda bad, but it was tolerable. Maybe Derek had done something.

Speaking of which, Stiles couldn't help but giggle at the way he was trailing behind him, hand on  his hip.

"What?"

"You're like a puppy." He cooed. Derek growled, trademark scowl on his face as he reached up and pulled the crackers out of the cabinet.

Maybe he wasn't ready for food just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so yeah, this chapter was short and again, mostly filler. Originally, the fact that Stiles got sick was going to mean something, but then I changed how it was going to end and now it means absolutely nothing. And I needed Derek to find out about Stiles' mom, but it didn't fit in anywhere else so... I needed him to know about this before the next part of this series.
> 
> And yeah, in this story, Derek had dated Ms. Blake. Also something I needed to include before the second part.
> 
> I'm finally almost done writing this holy shit. Chapter twenty one is probably going to be the longest one, I'm warning you now. Its also why "graphic depictions of violence" is now in the tags, just in case some people don't want to read about that.


	18. About that text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an increase of hunters in Beacon Hills, and they need to figure out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a panic attack in this one.

A month passed. A whole month (and maybe more). And within that month, many, _many_ things happened. Stiles called Derek his boyfriend, that was the first thing. He said it in front of Scott, who just stared dumbly at him then started laughing. There were actual tears in his eyes.

The second thing was that they spent most of their time training Scott (Kira watched sometimes) and fighting monsters. Stiles killed a fairy. A real, live, breathing fairy. He then freaked out about it and cried for a good two hours. But Cora explained to him that fairies were, and he quoted, 'evil sons of bitches that sacrificed babies', so he didn't feel too bad. He did for a while, but he turned out okay.  They also caught yet another omega. That one was killed by hunters. They spent the night getting chased, like back during the first full moon Scott had endured. It was enough to convince Stiles that yes, there were hunters in Beacon Hills once again. Derek went out into the woods earlier that day, looking for clues that could maybe tell them who the hunters were (they usually had an insignia on their bullets and arrows, apparently), and then he’d been attacked. He’s knocked out the hunter and stolen his phone…Which brought them to where they were now.

"You want me to do _what_?" Danny asked, staring at Stiles in disbelief.

"Trace a text." Stiles answered.

"We haven't seen each other in months. I came here because you said you wanted to catch up. That's what friends do." Danny raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ugh." Stiles sighed, frustrated. "And we will, once you trace the text."

"Really? And what makes you think I know how?" Danny crossed his arms over his chest. Stiles glanced around sheepishly.

"Well I...I looked up your arrest report, so..." He glanced down.

"I...I was thirteen." Danny said, as if that was enough explanation.  "They dropped the charges."

"Whatever." Stiles mumbled.

"Wh- No! We're catching up now, okay?" The man huffed, sitting down next to Stiles' desk

"Oh my g-" Stiles let out a small growl, not enough for Danny to hear. Derek was rubbing off on him. He started to type at his computer, ignoring the man next to him. So maybe he was being childish. He shouldn't have expected this guy to just-

"Who is he again?" Danny interrupted his train of thought, pointing behind him to where Derek was sitting next to the bed, reading a book and trying to calm down. Stiles could feel the anger coming off him.

"I'm his-" Derek started to growl, clearly still pissed about earlier.

"Cousin!" Stiles squeaked. "... Miguel." _I'm so stupid. Why did I do that?!_ _Danny probably knows he’s not_. Derek looked up at him, confusion and annoyance clear on his handsome features. Danny frowned.

"Is that...blood on his shirt?" Stiles looked back and yup, Derek hadn't changed out of the clothes he'd been stabbed in. Typical.

"Yeah." He thought up a quick lie. "Yes. Well, he gets these...horrible nosebleeds." Danny looked confused. "Hey Miguel?" Stiles looked pointedly at the werewolf on the bed. The older man glared at him. "I thought I told you could borrow one of my shirts?" He glanced over to his closet and dresser a few times. Derek just glared harder. _What a wonderful boyfriend I have._

Derek slammed the book shut and slipped off his t-shirt, and Stiles ripped his eyes away from the triskelion on his back before he could get a good look. "So, _anyway_ , I mean, we both know that you have the skills to trace that text, so, we should probably-"

"Uh, Stiles?" Derek snapped. He held back a scream of frustration and turned to face him.

"Yes?" He focused on the shirt in the man's hand instead of his naked torso. Derek held it up, waving it around.

"This?" He pulled on the fabric. "No fit." _Right. I'm smaller than him._ Stiles rememberd. But he had to have some bigger, looser t-shirts, right?

"Then try something else on." He turned back to Danny. "Sorry." And then he noticed.

Danny was incredibly gay. Even a straight man would at least acknowledge that Derek was hot, and Stiles could see that Danny was trying really hard not to stare and drool over the shirtless werewolf. He pushed down the small feeling of jealousy and possessiveness he felt and narrowed his eyes at his friend. Danny shut his mouth and turned away, glancing over his shoulder briefly.

Stiles turned back to Derek, who was trying in another shirt. It was way too tight on him, muscles bulging and threatening to break the thin cotton fabric. "Hey, that one looks pretty good, right?" He smirked at his friend. "What do you think, Danny?"

"Huh?" Danny looked at the computer.

"The shirt." Stiles said. Derek growled softly, glaring at the both of them now.

"It's...not really his color." So Derek took of the shirt with (another) growl.

"You swing for a different team but you still play ball, don't you Danny boy?" Stiles joked, grinning mischievously.

"You're a horrible person." Danny whispered, pushing Stiles over so he could get access to the computer.

"I know, it keeps me awake at night." He grinned. "Anyway, about that text."

"Stiles!" Derek snapped. "None of these fit!" The teacher simply looked innocently back at the man on the computer, who sighed.

"I'll need to ISP the phone number, and the exact time of the text." Stiles silently cheered, shooting his boyfriend a grin. Derek rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek finally found a t-shirt big enough for him to wear. After about half an hour of Stiles trying to fill the silence while his friend (Danny was his name?) worked on tracing the text, the man spoke.

"There." He sighed, moving back. Stiles leaned forward, looking at the screen. "The text was sent from a computer. This one." Derek stood up from the bed and looked over their shoulders.

 "Registered to that account name?" Derek asked, hearing Stiles' heartbeat rise.

"No, no no, _no_. That can't be right." The teacher muttered, shaking his head. Derek leaning down a bit and read the name.

 

**Sara Chasseuse**

 

"That's the only name that's coming up." Danny glanced worriedly at Stiles, who seemed to be frozen in shock. Derek wanted to scream at him that he told him from the beginning. He wanted to yell at him for putting their tiny pack in danger. He also wanted to wrap him up and hold him close, because Stiles looked so fucking betrayed. "Stiles?"

"Danny." Stiles said calmly. It was unlike him. Derek was worried. He could still hear the man's heart pounding, and it didn't match the eerily emotionless tone he was using. "I think you should come back later. Sorry we didn't get to catch up."

"It's okay." The guy could clearly sense something was off. "I'll call you later okay?" He said softly. Stiles nodded, getting up and following him to the door. After waving goodbye, he slammed the door shut. Derek watched from the hallway as Stiles leaned his forehead against the door. His heart was pounding, and Derek didn't know what to do. He didn't know what this was. Until he heard Stiles gasp, and his hands shook as he reached up to run them through his hair. Derek went to him, wrapping his arms around him.

"You didn't know." He said softly, hoping to stop the panic attack in his tracks. Stiles shuddered and gasped into his chest, breaths getting shallower and closer together. "Stiles." He said worriedly, pulling him back. He searched his face, taking in the teacher's wide eyes as he struggled to breathe.

"Derek- I can't-"

"Stiles, breathe. You'll be alright." He said as calmly as possible.

"I- Derek- I should have-"

"It's not your fault." He assured him. “She used you. You didn’t know.” Stiles' legs were shaking, and Derek was afraid he might actually collapse. He had never seen anyone actually pass out from a panic attack, but he knew it was possible. "Stiles, come on, breathe with me, okay?" Stiles nodded.

He tried. Derek could tell. But it wasn't working. He was trembling and he was barely breathing. So Derek did the only think he could think of. He grabbed either side of his face and kissed him.

Stiles stopped trembling for a second, tense under Derek's hands, and he thought for a second that maybe it was a mistake, maybe that wasn't going to be very helpful at the moment. But then the younger man seemed to melt against him. "Better?" He breathed, pulling back.

"How...how'd you know to do that?"

"I figured you would hold your breath, and maybe it would get you to stop breathing so quickly." Derek told him. Stiles closed his eyes, pain clear on his face. But it wasn't something Derek could take away, though he wished he could.

"What's wrong with me?" He whispered. Derek frowned, resting his forehead on the other's.

"Nothing's wrong with you. You're human."

"That's the problem." Stiles said brokenly, pushing away. "They're supposed to be getting better. But I just had one a few weeks ago!" Stiles looked like he was about to cry. Derek knew what he was talking about. Stiles had had a panic attack on Valentine’s Day. He'd locked himself in the bathroom for hours after that.

Derek watched helplessly as he started to pace. The pale man shook his head, as if he could erase the things he felt that way. And then a familiar expression settled over his features. "We need to come up with a plan."

"Don't change the subject."

"I’m not. This is serious." Stiles ran a hand through his hair, still pacing. "A hunter has wormed their way into my life, probably to get to you. So how are we going to deal with this?" Derek sighed. Stiles wasn't going to budge, so might as well plan with him.

"You said Danny was an expert, but is it possible maybe it wasn't her?" Derek suggested. He was hoping, for Stiles' sake, that it wasn't.

"No, he's never wrong..." Stiles paused for a second. It was unnerving how still he was. "Unless maybe someone else used her computer. It wasn't from her laptop, it was from her computer on her desk on campus. Anyone could get in after classes ended and send it. But why her computer? Could it just be a coincidence?"

"Maybe-"

"Why would she choose _me_? And at the worst possible time. Seriously, I hated you guys when she met me. What did she-" he looked up at Derek. "Maybe she was hoping I hated you enough to tell her where you were. And what you were."

"You hated me?" Stiles frowned.

"I wanted to." He sighed, hugging himself. "I really wanted to." Derek nodded. He couldn't blame him. He had hated himself too. "Derek-"

"I get it." He said softly. "You don't have to explain."

"I love you now though. I don't-" Stiles' eyes widened. "I didn't- I meant-"

"You love me?" Derek couldn't help the stupid grin he felt trying to make an appearance on his face. Stiles' heart was hammering again, but Derek had a hard time hearing it over his own.

"I-" Stiles swallowed thickly. "Yeah." He sighed. "Kind of in love with you, sourwolf." He whispered. Derek beamed at him. "What?" He blushed. "Stop that. It's creepy."

"I love you too." Stiles gaped at him, hazel eyes wide, like that was such an impossible thing, loving someone like him. But it wasn't.

Stiles was selfless. So, so incredibly selfless. He cared about people, maybe too much. And he was curious, and kind, and sarcastic, and so fucking smart. He was Derek's anchor. For so long, it had been anger. Because that's what Peter taught him. But Stiles... Stiles was so much better. Derek honestly didn't know why the teacher was even with him, because he was the opposite of all those things. He was mean and rude and, according to Cora, he had no sense of humor.

"You're a dork." Stiles scoffed, suddenly breaking into a grin and going over to him. Derek snaked his arms around the younger man's waist, letting his head fall on Stiles' shoulder. The teacher reached up and started running his hands through his hair and yeah, Derek was starting to see why he liked it so much.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles pushed down the nervousness and panic he felt and pushed open the door to Sara's hall. She was packing up her things. When she saw him, she smiled. It sent chills down his spine.

"Heya snowflake. I didn't see you come in." She threw a book into her bag. "What do you need?"

"Can I use your computer?" Stiles wondered. She gave him an odd look.

"Don't you have a laptop?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Stiles looked around, trying to think of a lie. He was a bit rusty, so de lying was impossible around werewolves so he just never bothered. "It...it's dead. It died. Dad ran over it with the cruiser." _Really believable_. Stiles mentally slapped himself. Sara didn't look very convinced.

"Really? Your dad broke it?"

"Yeah...mmhmm." He nodded. _Sell it with your eyes, Stilinski._ She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Fine." She huffed. "Just lock up when you're done."

"You're the best." He grinned at her, settling down in the plush red chair. She rolled her eyes and waved goodbye.

He wasn't an expert, like Danny, but he knew his shit. So it didn't take long for him to hack into her email (he'd been friends with her long enough to know she was the type of person to use her let's name as her password. And her pets name was Gilbert, for some reason. So really, not hacking). Part of him felt bad, because they'd been friends for two months and if he was wrong, he was betraying her. But it didn't stick for long.

Sara had a really suspicious string of emails with a blocked IP address.  She never said anything about werewolves, or wolves at all, but a lot of them mentioned hunting, and something about an incident in the past, and it was enough to convince Stiles that yeah, he was friends with a deranged hunter. A petite, smart, deranged hunter that mentioned torture at least fifty times in these emails. _Well, not really friends anymore, since she’s trying to kill my boyfriend._

He quickly closed the window and turned off the computer, hands shaking. Derek had been right. He'd been right and they could have done something about this sooner if he had just listened to him. But he hadn't, so now there was a hunter out there that was messing with the pack's heads and knew pretty much everything about him.

He shrugged on his hoodie, then pulled out his phone as he got in the jeep. Time to call Scott.

"Hey man, what's up?" Scott said cheerfully into the recover.

"Derek was right." _No time for mindless chatter._ "She's a hunter. Probably working with the guys that have been following us."

"Shit." Scott cursed. "I'm sorry. I know she was your friend."

"Whatever." Stiles sighed. Maybe if he pretended this didn't hurt, and he buried it deep like he did his memories of Malia, he wouldn't feel so shitty right now. "It doesn't matter. We have the proof, what do we do now?"

"Talk to Cora, I guess." Right. Scott was her beta, of course he wanted to talk about this with her. "And Derek." He added as an afterthought. Stiles started up the jeep.

"Yeah. I'll talk to him tonight."

"Okay." Scott paused. "Fuck. I'm on call tonight."

"Oh. Well, the full moon was last week, so that's not a problem right?"

"Yeah, but..." He made a pained noise, and it sounded like he was being strangled for a second. "Kira's parents are coming to town. Today."

"Oh." Stiles smiled. "So you're spending the week with the in-laws."

"Dude! This isn't funny! They don't even know we're engaged. My plans got messed up and I proposed at the airport!" Stiles started laughing. "This is serious!"

"Sorry buddy, I gotta go. You know, don't want to crash my baby." Scott groaned.

"Fine. Bye."

"Later bro." Stiles laughed.

The road was empty, save a few cars. Stiles turned up the radio, singing along as loud as he wished, because Derek wasn't there to grumble about him being tone-deaf. _Maybe I could stay at Derek's tonight_. He wondered. He'd be alone in the apartment tonight, and he hadn't been to Derek's in a while. They always trained at Deaton's or in the woods. _I'll ask him later._

He felt a small smile start on his face. Derek has somehow managed to make him better just by existing. He seemed to sense whenever Stiles felt bad, and always had a way of making it better. Kissing him or hugging him or running a hand through his hair. If someone had told him last year he would be dating Derek Hale, he would have laughed in their face. All his memories of Derek at the time were of the older man scowling when he picked up his little sister from kindergarten, or of his back as Stiles sat in the front seat of the cruiser and his father talked to the only two remaining Hales.

Stiles felt something bump into the back of his jeep. When he looked back, a ridiculously cliché black SUV was trying to push him forward. He frowned, speeding up a bit. A bad feeling setting in the bit of his stomach. The car just sped up with him. _Is this guy trying to run me over?_ Stiles thought. And then he felt cold. Because yeah, this guy could be trying to run him over. He just hacked into a hunters email. _What if she knows?_ What if she sent people out to get him? He could just be being paranoid, but he could also be right.

Great time for Derek to call.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" Derek asked as soon as Stiles pressed answer.

"How did you- Never mind. It's nothing."

_"Stiles."_

"It's nothing." He insisted. He glanced behind himself.

The car was gone. He let go of the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "They're gone."

"They?" Derek growled.

"Relax, Der-bear. I'm fine."

"Right. You know, that's what you said right before you passed out after the fight with that fae, so sorry if I'm not inclined to believe you." Derek retorted.

"In my defense, it said it wanted to eat my heart and use my eyes as earrings, so..." Stiles rolled his eyes. It had actually been terrifying. The thing had tackled him, talking about how special he was and how powerful this would make it. It was weird, and Derek had clawed at its back. Then had Stiles stabbed it.

 "Are you almost at your apartment?" Derek asked.

"Actually...I was wondering if I could stay at the loft with you tonight."

"What?"

"Uh...your loft? The one you live in? Haven't been in forever." He bit his lip. Was that not something he should ask?

"You want to...stay here? Overnight?" Derek asked dumbly. Stiles parked in front of the loft, next to Derek's black Camaro.

"Yeah. Is that a problem? You've stayed over a couple of times." Derek had stayed over seven times. Scott had complained the last two times, saying it was weird that his best friend's room smelled like another werewolf.

"Yes, but-"

"But _what_?" Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit annoyed. Derek didn't say anything. It was several minutes before he spoke.

"I didn't think you liked this place."

"I don't." He admitted. "But I like you. And I like you're ridiculously large bed. So...yes?"

"Fine."

 

* * *

 

 

"Your shirts are so soft." Stiles wrapped his arms around himself and sighed. Derek rolled his eyes.

"Stiles. Focus. You told me this was important." Derek reminded him. Stiles just sighed and rolled over, burying his face in one of Derek's pillows. Either he really was distracted by how soft the shirt was, or he was purposefully not talking about this. This being the fact that something very obviously happened on the drive over here, judging by the lingering scent of fear that clung to him.

"Right." Stiles rolled onto his back. "She...you were right. It was Sara." He whispered.

"I'm sorry." Derek told him. Because he was. Sara had been Stiles' friend.

"She used me. She just wanted to get to you." Derek expected him to panic. But the teacher didn't. He sat up and looked at Derek, expression unreadable. He shoved his feet under Derek's thigh. "How are we going to stop her?"

"I don't know. Doesn't seem like she's going to be leaving town until she gets what she wants." He glanced at the door to his room. "Cora was almost kidnapped by hunters today." Stiles' head snapped up so fast, Derek was afraid he'd get whiplash.

"What?!"

"She's fine, Stiles."

"I'm fine!" Cora yelled from downstairs. Of course she'd been listening in. Stiles relaxed a bit. He moved so that his head was resting on Derek's lap and he was looking up at him. Derek ran his fingers through the man’s dark brown hair.

"This is stupid." He said suddenly. "This whole thing is ridiculous. I feel like I'm in a shitty romance novel. All that's left is for you to grow your hair out and walk around shirtless all the time. Not that I would mind that last bit." He closed his eyes. "When did everything in my life start to revolve around the supernatural? The only normal person I know is my dad and Jackson. _Jackson_ is one of the most normal people in my life. Seriously. I'd say Kira too, but I've got my suspicions."

"I'm sorry." Derek whispered. Stiles cracked his eyes open, frowning at him.

"What?"

"I dragged you into this. Cora was right. I should have just stayed away."

"No." Stiles sat up, shaking his head. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that. That bullshit speech that the heroes in the movies give to justify breaking up with their girlfriends. I'm not the damsel in distress, remember? I want this. I don't care about all the shit we have to go through if it means I get to have you, okay?" He pressed their foreheads together. "Don’t apologize for this."

"You two are disgusting." Cora shouted. "Christ. I'm leaving before I hear any more of your sappy crap."  Stiles laughed.

Despite their current situation, Stiles looked relaxed. He looked better than Derek had ever seen him. When they first met, Stiles was too pale and tired to be healthy. Now...Well, it wasn't like he suddenly cured Stiles of all his problems. But he ate more now, and the bruises under his eyes weren't as dark. And he was smiling right now, even though they had all this shit to deal with, and...

"I love you." He whispered. Stiles grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.

"I know."

"You dick. Now isn't the time for cheesy movie quotes."

"It's always time for Star Wars quotes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interns can be on call, right? Are they even called interns? Honestly, my knowledge of how hospitals work is limited to Scrubs, House, and distant memories of when my father worked at one, so, sorry if I get stuff wrong. And sorry for Sara's last name, I suck at last names so I just put hunter in Itranslate and translated it to french. So sorry.
> 
> Danny doesn't know that Stiles is bi yet, since he only figured it out himself a few years earlier. Just in case anyone was confused about that (I really wanted to use that scene okay).
> 
> Four more chapters left! Holy shit, this might be the first fic i wrote that i actually FINISH wow. I hope i can say the same for all the other crap I've started writing. I've actually got part of a wall covered in sticky notes with ideas on it, cause if I don't write it down, I'll lose it. I've got to stop coming up with new ideas halfway through a story.
> 
> Anyway, I'll probably post chapter nineteen later today, cause its kind of important.


	19. Is that any way to treat family?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles both get very unexpected visitors. Cora would want nothing more than to rip both their throats out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters to go. Wow. This might actually be finished on the first day of the new year.

Stiles had been avoiding Sara since he found those emails. It had been a week, and she was starting to notice. He knew he couldn't stay away forever. He just had to keep pretending he was still her friend until they figured out what to do. But he didn't like it. Derek and Scott didn't either.

"Excuse me." Stiles looked up from his desk to see a woman walk into the room. She was tall, blonde, and had bright green eyes. She looked a bit familiar, though Stiles couldn't remember seeing her before. "Are you Mr. Stilinski?"

"Uh, yeah, that's me. Can I help you?" He wondered. She smiled, and for some reason, it made him feel uneasy.

"My daughter is transferring here, and she wanted to me to check out a few classes for her." She explained. "She really loves Mythology."

"Well, you came to the right place then. What's her name?"

"Kate." She looked around. "So, do you teach a specific type of mythology, or..."

"All types. Norse, Celtic, Greek, Native American... The creatures in the stories are fascinating. I don't think I could talk about just one." He told her honestly.

"Great."

"Is that all?"

"Yup. Thank you for your time." The woman nodded, turning to leave.

"I'll be sure to look for her when she gets here!" He called. She shot him another smile before closing the door behind her. Stiles frowned down at the quizzes on his desk. Well that was odd. He'd never had a parent ask about his class before. Usually it was the students, since they were in collage and we're capable of asking for themselves. But at least it showed he cared about her daughter?

His phone started ringing (Derek's ringtone was wolves howling) and he smiled a bit, answering it.

"When are you coming back?" Derek didn't even say hello.

"My day was okay, thanks for asking."

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He sighed. "I'll leave now, I guess. Finish grading at...your place?"

"You don't have to ask, Stiles. Come whenever you want." Derek assured him. "I'll give you a key."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll be there in fifteen minutes then."

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles got to the loft, he didn't bother pulling out the rest of the papers he said he needed to grade. Derek's watched him pace around the coffee table, arms crossed, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Derek was worried that he might bite right through it, and he could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"Okay." He stopped, looking up. "So, she's here for the pack."

"Yeah."

“Well, we don’t know for certain. That just seems to be the most reasonable assumption.”

“Right.”

"Do you think it's possible that she didn't know I knew you? Maybe it was just a coincidence." His shoulders slummed. "No, probably not. People had seen me out in public with you but then. She must have known. So she's definitely here for this pack only, not just..." He paused. "Are there any other supernatural beings in Beacon Hills I should be worried about?"

"There's a bunch of different type of fae in the preserve. But they...live on a different plain? I've never really seen any of them. The hunters wouldn't have a way of getting to them."

"Anything else?"

"There are a couple of wendigos." Stiles frowned. "They don't eat live people. Don't worry about them."

"So she would have gotten them already if she was just some hunter passing through. And I doubt she would have gotten a job and stuck around." The younger man brought his hand up to his lips, biting his nails. He sat down on the couch next to Derek and started hammering his foot against the ground.

"Stiles." Derek put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't look up from the spot on the floor he was staring at, but he did acknowledge him.

"Hmm?"

"Calm down. We'll figure this out." Stiles dropped his hand and looked up at him.

"Have hunters been after you before?" He questioned. Derek thought back to when he came back to Beacon Hills the first time. He'd been accused of murdering his own sister, which was just dumb, and then the Argents were on his ass for months. They finally stopped when Chris, the oldest Argent sibling, found out that Kate had killed his family. A reluctant truce.

"Yes."

"How did you get rid of them? Did you scare them away? What-"

"My uncle killed one of them. She...she was the one that killed my family. After she was dead...her brother decided to stop hunting us. We have a truce."

"Oh." Stiles frowned. "You don't talk about your uncle much." He changed the subject.

"He's dead." Derek lied.

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Peter should be dead. He was dead for a while. But then he came back, because he just can't stay dead, can he? He lived with Derek for a while, but he was a fucking asshole, so Derek left. Now, Peter was somewhere in Florida. He only knew because the man had called him a few months ago to bail him out of jail. He left him there.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I hated him." That was true.

"So I guess calling him for help is out of the question, huh?" The teacher stood up, stretching. "I-" Stiles didn't get to finish his sentence. Derek turned his head sharply, narrowing his eyes and growing in the direction of the door. He got down in a crouch in front of Stiles, claws out. He really wasn't expecting the voice that came from the other side of the door.

"Really nephew. Is that any way to treat family?" _Oh god._

"Family?" Stiles whispered. This is the worst possible time for this. He could hear his heart beat pick up, and he wished he could say that there was no reason to be scared, but... This was Peter.

"You know about two minutes ago when I said my uncle was dead?"

"Yeah?"

"I meant dead to me." He growled, going to the door and unlocking it. "What the hell do you want, Peter?"

"Ah ah." Peter slipped past him, grinning wickedly at Stiles. The pale man just glared back at him, thought he knew Stiles was terrified. "You're going to want to hear what I have to say." He glanced back at Derek. "You didn't tell me you found yourself a little human to play with."

"Don't touch him." He snarled, locking the door and going to stand between the two of them. "He's not a toy. He's my boyfriend."

"What pretty eyes. Just like his mother's."

Stiles let out a sound that could only be describes as a cross between a whimper and a growl. He gripped the back of Derek's shirt, hands shaking.

"You said you had something important to say?" Stiles' voice was eerily calm.

"Right." His uncle frowned. "You might want to sit down for this." When they didn't move, Peter rolled his eyes. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt the kid. He'll be useful later." Derek didn't want to know what that meant. Stiles let go, going to sit on one of the stools in the kitchen and putting more distance between himself and the two werewolves. Derek didn't go stand with him like he wanted to, just crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at his uncle.

"What?"

"You know how they say that sometimes, humans can be turned by a scratch?"

"It's highly unlikely, but yeah." Derek narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"And remember how I dug my claws into a certain hunter a bunch of year ago?"

"Yes. I do. Where are you-" Derek froze. No. _No_. "That's...that's not possible. It's one in a million, there no way-"

"She's back." Peter said slowly. "She's alive."

Derek just stared at him. She couldn't be alive. He couldn't be back. Derek had seen Peter kill her with his own eyes. Saw the claws almost cut her head clean off. Even if it was deep enough to turn her, she shouldn't have been able to survive that. They should have burned her body with Peter. _How could I have been so stupid? I should have made sure she was gone for good. People in this town tend to not stay dead._ He should have known.

Rage bubbled up in his throat, and he let out a loud howl, slamming his uncle's back against the brick walls of the loft.

"No." He snarled.

"Derek!" That was Stiles. He was faintly aware of the cold, soft hands on his back, trying to calm him. It wasn't working. Kate had killed his family. Used him. Burned down his home. And now she was back. _Did she know about Stiles? Would she come after him? Oh god, what if she did?_ He had to protect him.

He could feel his claws coming, face shifting, fangs poking his lips. When had he lost control? A hand grabbed his arm, tugging, trying to turn him around. Before Derek could think it through, he turned and growled loudly at them. Stiles jumped back.

 

* * *

 

 

He could hear his heart racing in his ears. His hands were shaking, he knew without looking at them. From his spot pinned against the wall, Peter raised his eyebrows at his nephew.

"Hear that Derek?" He asked. Derek blinked, eyes flickering from blue to green to blue again. Stiles stared at them, eyes wide. "Hear how fast his heart is beating? You scared him."

"Shut up!" Derek roared. Stiles flinched.

"You're only making it worse." Peter sounded so smug. Stiles wanted to go over there and punch the smirk off his face, but right now, he was too shaken to move. Derek slowly shifted back to human, and Stiles could sense the guilty and remorse he felt, along with the anger at what his uncle had told him. What had he told him?

"Stiles-"

"I'm fine." He shoved his hands in his pockets, willing them not to shake. It didn't work. "It's okay." He didn't want to be afraid of Derek. He wasn't afraid of Derek. "Who is she?" He asked, changing the subject. Derek finally let go of his uncle and too a hesitant step towards Stiles.

"Didn't Derek tell you? Kate Argent."

Stiles thought back to a little over two months ago. He vaguely remembered waking up with the worst hangover ever, and Derek had told him about some of his past. When he'd mentioned Kate, Stiles was too out of it to remember that Allison's last name was Argent. Which meant that Kate must have been Allison's aunt. The family of hunters Derek had been talking about had been Allison's.

"Oh my god." He breathed. He still remembered the day she died. The look in Scott's eyes. He'd caught a glimpse of the crime scene photos and promptly threw up afterwards.

"Stiles?" Allison had been a hunter. She died because of it. "Stiles, are you okay?" Had met Kate? He remembered Allison talking about her. Scott had met her. But Stiles hadn't, had he? No, he only met Allison's parents. Her creepy grandfather, after Kate had died (or faked her death, apparently), but never the woman herself. Scott was dating a hunter.

What if Allison had told him? What if he'd gotten involved? What if-

"Stiles!" Derek was shaking him. He blinked a couple of times, taking in the worry in Derek's eyes.

"I knew her." He blurted. Derek frowned, letting him go.

"What?"

"I-I mean, I didn't know her. I heard about her. From her niece. Allison." He paused. "Scott dated her in high school."

"Scott?" Peter asked. "Your new pack member? Oh, this just keeps getting better. An Argent somehow managed to get into the pants of half the pack even though the family is practically decimated. Tell me Stiles, did you sleep with her before she-"

"Don't." Derek's eyes flashed blue. Peter closed his mouth.

"I never met her. I was just at her funeral." Stiles finished.

"You're lucky then." Peter scoffed. He made his way over to the kitchen and looked around. "Six years and this place _still_ looks like an abandoned warehouse." Stiles ignored him.

"Is there any way we could talk to Mr. Argent? Get him to...take care of his sister?" He tried. Derek frowned. Stiles could sense that the topic was making him uncomfortable, but they had to talk about it. They couldn't have this problem on top of the whole Sara thing. One hunter was enough, thank you. They didn't need an ex-hunter-slash-werewolf (maybe?) to add to the mix. "I know that he left after Allison died, but-"

"He's with the Calaveras." Peter frowned. Derek growled.

"What?" Stiles raised an eyebrow at them.

"The Calaveras are the largest family of hunters in Mexico. And they have sort of a...grudge, you could say, against us. I'm sure dear old Chris has done what he can to keep them from brutally maiming us, but I don't think he'd like it very much if we killed his sister a second time."

"Peter?" That was Cora. Stiles turned around, and before he could say anything, the young alpha let out a howl so load, Stiles was sure his eardrums would burst. He covered his eyes with his hands, watching as she raced across the room and threw her uncle into one of the brick walls of the apartment. He went right through it.

 

* * *

 

 

Not that it wasn't satisfying seeing his uncle get beaten up, they needed his help. Derek hurried over and put his hands on Cora's shoulders, trying to stop her.

"Cora. It's okay. He's here to help."

"It's _okay_?! Derek, he _murdered_ our big sister! He tried to kill _you_ how many times?!" She turned to where Peter was pulling himself out of the rumble. "Get the fuck out of here!"

"I'm really feeling the love." Peter grunted. Derek saw Stiles roll his eyes.

"You're unbelievable." The teacher muttered.

"Oh, I like this one." Peter grinned. "Hope he's not as psychotic as the last one."

"Fuck you." Cora spat. She wrenched herself out of Derek's grip, anger rolling off of her in waves. Derek looked back to his open loft door to see Scott standing there, looking confused and eyes glowing gold. Derek's howl earlier must have called them. He hadn't thought about that.

"What's going on?" He wondered.

"Just a little family reunion!" Peter seemed way too cheery. "Go ahead Derek. Tell the rest of your pack the great news."

"What is he talking about?" Cora demanded. She turned her angry glare to Derek, red bleeding out of her eyes.

"Kate. She's alive." He swallowed. Suddenly, fear shot through the bond like a hunter's arrow, and he whirled around to face Stiles. He was standing next to Scott, staring down at a spot on the floor, eyes impossibly wide. "Stiles?"

"What-" he paused, running a hand through his hair. "What does Kate look like?"

"Stiles-" Scott started. Peter cut him off, narrowing his eyes at the pale man.

"Blonde. Tan. Green eyes. The smile of a psychotic bitch."

"Oh." Stiles nodded. "Okay."

"Why?"

"Because... I think I met her today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking yeah Peter's back. He's a huge sarcastic asshole, I had to bring him back. And, unfortunately, Kate is back too. Sorry if anyone hasn't seen Season four yet, cause the last three chapters contain a lot of it ( SPOILER!!!!!!!!!!: Minus the Peter trying to kill Scott and working with Kate part, for obvious reasons).
> 
> Now they have even more problems than before. I wonder how they'll cope.


	20. Protect those who cannot protect themselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last remaining Argent (officially) is back, and Derek and Stiles need his help. Problem is, she knows all his tricks.

The next two weeks were stressful for everyone. Aside from figuring out a solution to all their supernatural problems, Stiles was preparing his final exams, and Cora was studying for them, because she couldn't flunk. She was so close to graduating.

Scott's internship at the hospital was almost up, and he seemed to be working all the time. Derek was dealing with Peter, who had decided to stay for a while and help them get rid of Kate and Sara. Even Lydia, who no one really considered pack, was busy. She had decided she wanted to know more about the supernatural world, and Deaton had been more than glad to help her with her research, since Stiles was too busy.

What Derek hated most was the fighting. Everyone was on edge, and he and Stiles got in fights almost every day. Most of them were started over trivial things, like who was staying over where, or what they should have for dinner. And then they got onto topics like how much Stiles was eating and sleeping, what they were going to do if they couldn't fight the hunters, why was Derek keeping secrets from him... He was tired of it. And poor Scott and Kira were always subjected to their yelling matches. He'd had enough. He didn't want to fight. And he could tell Stiles didn't either, but they couldn't stop.

"Hey." Stiles whispered when Derek opened the apartment door. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch before closing the door and going over to him. "Where were you?"

"With Peter." Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Didn't go well, huh?"

"We did find one thing." He admitted. They were finally making progress. "Kate escaped before we could get her a couple of nights ago, but she's not a werewolf." Stiles frowned, leaning over the table and ignoring the papers in front of him.

"What? What is she then?"

"I was hoping you'd be able to help us figure that out." He didn't miss the small frown Stiles gave at that.

"Uh, yeah, okay. I'll-"

"Stiles." Derek interrupted him. The younger man sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"What?"

"You don't have to. I could go to Deaton."

"I want to help!" Stiles yelled. "I want to- I need to do something!"

"You are-"

"Don't. You know I'm not. All I'm doing is sitting here writing some up some dumb final for what? Forty students? Because I only have forty students. Because no one even bothers with my class and I'm probably going to get fired soon anyway. And it's not like I can go out with you and the other wolves because _look at me_! I'm human. Helpless. And fucking _breakable_. The only thing I've ever done is bring my fucking bat and hope to god it actually does some damage. Christ, not even Lydia is this helpless, cause apparently she's a fucking banshee. You can't sit here and tell me that I'm doing something, Derek. Because I know I'm not. I n-not I-" he cut himself off and put his head in his hands, breathing heavy. "I'm useless."

Derek didn't know what to say. He knew that trying to convince Stiles he wasn't useless wasn't going to work. He went around the table and pushed the chair he was in back, crouching in front of the other man and putting his hands around his thin, pale wrists.

"Stiles." He said softly. "Hey. Look at me."

“I don’t- I’m sorry-”

“Shhh. Don’t apologize.” Derek tugged on his arms until he dropped them. Tears made their way down the teacher’s cheeks.

“I can’t- I need- _Derek_ -”

“Try to breathe. Can you do that?” he put his hand on the side of his face, running his thumb over Stiles’ cheek.

“I n-need to do something!” He sobbed. Derek thought for a moment.

“Come with me tomorrow then.” He suggested, hoping that was enough to calm him down. “I don’t think I could handle it if I had to go out with Peter again.”

“Are you s-sure? What-”

“We’ll be fine. We’re going out in broad daylight, Stiles. You’ll be okay. We’re just going to Chris.”

“He’s back?” Stiles sniffled.

“Yeah. And surprisingly, he’s not angry that we’re trying to kill his sister…again.”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded. He gave Derek a small smile, and he gladly returned it. He wiped the tears with the back of his hand and nodded again. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

 Stiles shrugged on his mother’s old hoodie and a pair of old, worn jeans before heading to the kitchen. Derek handed him a plate of waffles and raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“It’s almost summer. Why are you wearing that?”

“It’s my lucky hoodie.”

“It’s hot outside.”

“Dude.” He took a bite of one of his waffles. “You’re not the one wearing it. Chill.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek huffed.

Once they finished their breakfast, Derek drove them over to the Argent’s old house. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness when he took in the sad remains. The walls were covered in dirt and a few vines, the paint chipping. One of the windows was broken, and the grass was at least a foot tall. Stiles remembered the first time he’d been there. Lydia had thrown Allison a small birthday party for her (after he father ungrounded her, of course).

Derek paused a few feet in front of him and looked back. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s just… Allison was my friend.”

“You don’t have to come in-”

“No. I will. It’s fine.” He went ahead and knocked on the door. He knew Mr. Argent was in there, his car was parked outside. It didn’t look like the man knew that Stiles was coming, though.

“Stiles?” he frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s with me.” Derek spoke up.

“When-”

“It’s a long story.” Stiles sighed. “Can we come in? I’m sure you guys have a lot to talk about.”

“Sure.”

The house was just as sad inside. He hadn’t been there much, and he hadn’t been as close to Allison as everyone else, obviously, but it still hurt. Derek grabbed his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He smiled a bit. “When did you two…” he paused, turning to the teacher. “What happened to Malia?” he tensed.

Right. He’d been gone when it happened. He didn’t know. _Don’t panic. Just answer the question and move on._ He gripped Derek’s hand a little tighter and took a deep breath.

“She died.”

“I’m sorry.” He put a hand on his shoulder. Stiles looked down at his shoes.

“Can I…look around? While you two talk?” He wondered. Chris nodded. He let go of Derek’s hand and started up the stairs.

“Did you know she was alive?”

“I thought…I’d heard rumors…” when Stiles got to Allison’s room, he couldn’t really tell what they were saying anymore. It was just muffled voices.

Her room half made up of dusty boxes. There were still some of her things strewn about, like her bows and arrows in one corner, her comforter and pillows covered in a layer of dust on the bed. Her closet was half open, and a few of her clothes were still hung up, some books on the floor. Whoever was packed her things must have decided they couldn’t continue. Probably Chris.

Her computer was still there. It was eight years old, so it probably didn’t work, but…

Nope. It worked fine. Wow. It was password protected though. _I can’t really hack into my dead friend’s computer, can I? What do I think I’m going to find, anyway? I shouldn’t…_ He thought back to when she and Scott had been dating. Even now, Scott still used Allison as his password. Stiles placed his hands on the keyboard.

**Scott**

Nope. Wrong. Of course it wasn’t _Scott._ Allison had been smarter than that.

 **Victoria** nope.

 **Kate** (ugh, why) nope.

 **McCall** nope. Stiles thought for a moment. Maybe Allison wasn’t the type of person who used people as their passwords. Or maybe…

**Lydia**

Yes! _What the hell am I doing?_ Now that he had gotten in, he wasn’t really sure what the point of all that was.

There were a few documents open already. He skimmed over it. Lit homework? She’d been doing homework for Ms. Blake when she died? But the woman had already been gone for a couple of weeks before Allison died, hadn’t she? So why would she be doing her homework? He closed that one and started going through the second one.

_Holy god._

_A bestiary._

He’d never even heard of some of the creatures in here. And some of them, he had been sure were just myths had to come from somewhere, right? Holy shit. _Holy shit._ He needed a copy of this. He needed to tell Derek. Maybe there were more creatures in Beacon Hills than they realized. Shit.

“Oh my god.” he breathed, scrolling through it. “I have to bring this to Deaton.”

“That’s not yours.” A woman’s voice whispered in his ear. Before he could do anything (Like maybe scream or run), a hand was covering his mouth, and the woman turned the chair he was so he faced her.

It was the woman that had come into his classroom a few weeks ago. Kate. “Oh look at you.” She sighed. “Derek found himself a real cutie, didn’t he?” Stiles didn’t know what exactly happened after that, but suddenly, he wasn’t in the chair anymore.

His back was pressed against the wall, head hitting it with a sickening crack, and Kate was grinning wickedly at him, eyes glowing bright green. An unnatural green. She moved her hand to caress his cheek, and he tried to squirm away from her.

“Derek! He-” his screams were cut off when a hand tightened around his throat. He gasped as his feet came off the ground and she lifted him up the wall. Clawing at her was useless. She was stronger than him now. But it didn’t matter. Derek had heard him, and even if he hadn’t, then he should have heard Stiles’ rabbit-fast heartbeat. That was made apparent by the door being thrown open and the loud roar that seemed to shake the building.

“Kate! Let him go.” Chris snapped at her. he continued to struggle, and when Derek came closer, she just gripped his neck tighter. He’d at least been getting a bit of air before. Now there was nothing. His vision was going lack around the edges.

“KATE!” Derek growled. He sounded like he was under water. “He has nothing to do with this!”

“Oh Der.” She sighed. “You love him. He has _everything_ to do with this.” he closed his eyes.

There was a loud bang, and then he felt himself fall. The floor was hard and cold beneath him, and he gasped, air finally making its way into his burning lungs

“I’ll go after her. You stay here.” He heard Chris say. Stiles coughed and wheezed, hand on his neck. God, that was going to bruise.

“D-der-” his throat was killing him.

“Shhh. Don’t hurt yourself.” Derek told him, pulling him into his arms. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Derek helped him up and put a hand around his waist. He realized he was shaking, but he couldn’t stop it. It hurt to swallow. To breathe. To talk. He almost _died_. “Come on. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“H-hospital?” he wondered, voice hoarse and cracking.

“Yes.” He ushered him into the car, looking around. “She strangled you, Stiles. I’m sure she did some damage.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek brought him to the hospital, and Mrs. McCall immediately looked him over. Derek had been right, Kate had damaged something.

“Well, nothing seems broken. Just badly bruised.” She told him, pushing stiles back down on the hospital bed. “Try not to talk today, okay? Your voice is going to be hoarse for a while.” He say stiles pin her with a look, and he seemed to be trying to convey something with flailing arms. The nurse laughed. “I know that’s going to be a bit hard for you, Stiles.” He opened his mouth to say something.

“No talking.” Derek reminded him. He frowned.

“Your throat’s going to hurt for a while, and it’s probably going to be difficult to swallow or breathe. I think you’ll be fine in a couple of days. Just promise you’ll rest today. And soup only, you hear me?” stiles nodded. Melissa smiled at him, then turned to Derek. “Make sure he takes these.” She handed him a couple bottles of pills.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He watched with a frown as Stiles closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” Melissa asked. Derek nodded.

“Yeah.” He followed her outside after throwing another glace in Stiles’ direction, guilt clouding his mind when he noticed that the bruises around his neck were already turning purple.

“What happened to him, exactly?” he asked angrily once the door was closed. Derek sighed. He couldn’t exactly explain to her that the pyromaniac he used to date (who also murdered him family) was somehow back from the dead as a were…something…and had tried to strangle stiles because Derek loved him. “Is it…I mean…Scott said he…” she paused, put her hands on her hips, and looked heavenwards. Probably asking for patience. “Is this a werewolf thing?”

“What?”

“Scott said…my son tells me almost everything. So of course I know he’s a…you know. And you too, I think? Is Stiles…” she trailed off, looking back at the closed door. Derek gaped at her, dumbfounded. Scott told his mother? _Scott told someone?_ He was going to have to talk to him about this later.

“Stiles isn’t a werewolf.” He said finally. She nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. So what happened?” she wondered again.

Derek explained their supernatural problems to her, and after a few more explanations, she finally accepted his answer. “Okay. So what do we tell his father?”

“His father?” She looked at him like his mother used to when he forgot to do his chores.

“Yes. His father. the sheriff. You brought in the sheriffs son. Of course he knows Stiles is here.” He hadn’t thought about that. “Does he know about you two?”

“I think so?” he should have asked Stiles about that earlier.

“Does he know about the whole werewolf thing?”

“No.”

“Okay, so what’s the story?”

“I…I don’t know. Stiles is usually the one that comes up with these.”

The universe must not like Derek. In fact, the universe probably hates Derek. Because right at that moment, the sheriff came around the corner, looking both angry and concerned, if possible. He stopped when he saw Derek and Melissa, and then glared at him.

“What the hell happened to my son?” he snapped. Derek opened his mouth to speak.

“I- we-” he didn’t really know what to say. The sheriff narrowed his eyes, then opened the door and went into the room.

“Dad!” Came Stiles’ hoarse voice.

“Hey son.” Derek sat in one of the scratchy cushioned chairs, watching them. “I’m getting kind of tired of seeing you in a hospital bed.”

“Sorry.”

“No talking.” Melissa scolded him. He rolled his eyes, and Derek smiled a little. “I’ll be back in a bit John. Just getting the discharge papers.” _His name is John?_

“What happened?” John (???) asked his son. Stiles opened his mouth, but Derek shot him a glare, so he closed it again. He looked around the room, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Stiles typed for a minute before showing it to his father. “’I got mugged.’” _Oh Christ._ “ Really son? So what, they took your money and then decided to choke you?”

“Uh, no.” Derek spoke up. “They…uh…he didn’t give them anything. So he tried to strangle him, but I…” he looked to Stiles for help, but he just flailed and made a gesture that Derek assumed meant keep going. “I punched him. And then he ran away?”

“You punched him.”

“Yes.” Derek nodded. Stiles’ father seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded. The younger man relaxed against the pillows. Stiles grabbed the glass of water and started drinking it with a wince.

“So when were you going to tell me you two were dating?”

He spit water everywhere.

“I…We were going to tell you. I thought he told you?” Derek mumbled, face warm. Stiles still sounded like he was trying to cough up a lung.

“What the hell dad?!” he wasn’t even going to try to get him to stay quiet. With Stiles, it was pointless.

“Well you are, aren’t you?” the sheriff raised an eyebrow at his son, a slightly amused look on his face.

“Sir, I-”

“Hale, its fine.”

The conversation between the three of them had been awkward, but in the end, Stiles’ father didn’t seem to have a problem with Derek. He apologized, yet again, for everything that happened when Laura died, and Derek assured him that it was fine. When Stiles was discharged, the sheriff hugged his son goodbye and fixed Derek with a look, then left.

“No talking.” Derek muttered when Stiles opened his mouth. He knew it wouldn’t last though. Stiles almost never stopped talking, even if it hurt him.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was getting antsy. It wasn’t just the not talking that was bothering him. It was the fact that he was apparently on bed rest for the remainder of the day, the dark purple bruises that circled his neck, and the fact that they had accomplished almost nothing. Stiles had ruined another attempt to solve their problems, just like always. Derek must have been able to tell what he was thinking, because he appeared at his side the next second.

“Feel any better?” He asked, looking guiltily down at his neck. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s not-”

“No talking. Melissa said-”

“Damn it Derek!” He sat up in the bed, glaring at the werewolf. “Let me talk for just one second. Then I promise I won’t say anything the rest of the day.”

“Fine.” Derek finally grumbled, sitting down next to him.

“This isn’t your fault. I’m not even going to listen to your attempts to prove me wrong. I already told you, I don't care about all the shit we have to go through. This?” he pointed to his neck. “Is not your fault. This happened because Kate is fucking crazy.” He finished with a cough, then rubbed at his neck, wincing. “Ow.”

“Are you done?” Stiles nodded. “Okay. Your voice sounds terrible.” He glared at him for a second, and Derek smiled. Stiles leaned to the side and put his head on the older man’s shoulder.

“I-”

“You promised.” Derek reminded him. _This is going to suck._ A small white board appeared in front of him, and Stiles frowned at it, but accepted it. a few minutes, he grabbed the marker and wrote something down.

‘I’m out of soup.’ He wrote. Derek sighed.

“Want me to go to the store and get some?” Stiles nodded enthusiastically. Derek sighed again, getting off the bed and grabbing his jacket. Stiles grabbed his arm, hauled himself up, and pressed their lips together, kissing him. Since he couldn’t say I love you, might as well show it. “I love you too.” Derek whispered when they broke apart. “Stay here. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Not five minutes after Derek left, there was a knock on the door. Stiles thought maybe it would be Scott, but Scott _lives_ here. He had a key, why would he knock? And Lydia wouldn’t knock either, she knew where the spare key was. Stiles was about to tell whoever it was to fuck off, that he wasn’t in the mood, when they spoke.

“Stiles, it’s me. Chris Argent.” Oh. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let him in.

“How did you know where I lived?”

“Derek told me.” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “He wanted me to watch you. I still owe him.”

“So you’re…babysitting me?”

“No.” Mr. Argent’s bitch face could put Derek’s to shame. When he walked past him, he could see that the guy had a gun tugged into the back of his jeans. Now that he thought about it, Mr. Argent probably had a lot of hidden weapons on him.

“How come you’re not trying to kill him?” Stiles blurted, ending the sentence with a cough. This week was just going to be great, wasn’t it?

“Stiles.” The older man sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Stiles closed the door and locked it. “Do you know what Allison told me the week she died?” he shook his head. “We were trying to get out of the hunting game. It wasn’t safe for her, and it got half my family killed. But she couldn’t let it go. She wanted to help the town.” He paused. “Do you know about the hunter’s code?”

“No.”

“It was ‘We hunt those who hunt us.’” He looked thoughtful. “That’s the simplified version. But after everything that had happened with…Kate...and Gerard, she wanted to change it. ‘We protect those who cannot protect themselves.’ So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Oh.”

“And, I figure I owe Derek. My sister killed most of his family, and now she’s trying to kill them again. And you. So I guess I owe you too.” Stiles nodded, leaning against the back of his couch. He wrapped his arms around himself and sighed.

“Was she…Allison…was she a hunter?” he finally asked. Though he realized that was kind of dumb, since he just said she was.

“I didn’t want her to be. Kate insisted.”

“She was a really good friend.” He felt the need to say it. “She was always there for us, even when she and Scott weren’t together.” Mr. Argent nodded, giving him a small smile. It was probably forced, but Stiles could tell he still meant it.

Speaking of Scott…

 

**To  Spot:**

**R u ok?**

**U werent at the hospital**

Stiles brought his hand to his mouth and started biting his nails, anxious for a reply. He got one after a minute.

 

**From Spot:**

**YES**

**R U OK???**

**I WANTED 2 GO BUT DEREK TOLD ME TO STAY PUT WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?**

He could picture Scott’s worried expression.

 

**To Spot:**

**Im fine**

**Calm down man**

**Kate tried to kill me**

**But im good**

**From Spot:**

**SHE TRIED 2 KILL U AND UR FINE???**

**STILES**

**SCREW DEREK IM COMING OVER**

**To Spot:**

**Maybe later**

**And yes im fine**

**Mr Argent is watching me in case something happens**

**From Spot:**

**Ok gross**

**I don’t want 2 no what u and derek do**

**And im still coming over**

**C u later**

**To Spot:**

**Fine**

 

Stiles sighed, slipping his phone into his jeans pocket and looking around the room. Mr. Argent was pouring himself a glass of water on the kitchen counter. He could see all the lights in the hallway and his room were off. And the window was open. The window was open?

Stiles frowned, walking over to it. it was hold enough outside that Scott always had the windows closed and the AC running, so why the hell was the window open? He looked around outside before reaching up to pull down the glass and close it. But not before something that looked like a soup can flew right past him and landed in the middle of the living room. He gapd it, eyes wide, and he could see Chris start towards him before something sharp pricked the die of his neck, and the world seemed to tilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, sorry, that is a horrible part leave off on. Still not done with the next chapter, so, It might not get posted today. Maybe tomorrow?And of course Mrs. McCall knows. She's awesome.
> 
> Also, in the next chapter, there's going to be a lot of different POVs. Along with Derek and Stiles, there will also be Lydia's, Cora's, and Scott's.


	21. Some would sing and some would scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate has plans for them. For all of them. And Derek'd be damned if he was going to let her go through with any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from the song [Arsonist's Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEtkIRlz7Vw) by Hozier. I was listening to it earlier and I thought holy shit it sounds like its about Derek and the Hale fire. Seriously. I cant listen to it without thinking of poor sixteen year old Derek now.
> 
> (Chris' POV is also in this chapter, along with the ones i mentioned before.)

Stiles felt like someone stuffed his entire head full of cotton balls. His mouth was horribly dry, his neck hurt even more than before, and his thoughts were a jumbled mess. Maybe that was why it took him so long to register that there was someone calling his name.

“…iles? Can you hear me? Stiles.” He groaned, finally realizing that he was, in fact, not in his bed, but leaning against a cold, rough wall. And the voice belonged to Chris Argent.

Everything came rushing back. He bolted up, coughing and sputtering, his head pounding. “Hey. It’s okay. We’re fine.”

“Mr. Argent?” he choked out, opening his eyes and looking around.

There was a single light hanging above them, casting a terrible green glow over the bloodstained cement floor. The room was about the size of a large bedroom, and the older man was sitting a few feet away from him, watching him.

“Kate tranqed us.” He explained. “I don’t recognize this place. But I think we’re underground.”

“No natural lighting, cement walls? Yeah, I’d say so.” Stiles nodded, trying to keep calm. Having someone else in the room helped.

Mr. Argent looked a bit surprised. “Right. There’s a door over there.” He pointed to one end of the room. “But it’s pointless. It’s too thick, locks from the outside, and she took all my weapons.” He glared at the wall opposite of them.

“So you’re saying we’re stuck here until someone gets us.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think she’s going to do?” he whispered.

“Knowing Kate…” Stiles could see him wince out of the corner of his eye. “Probably torture us.”

“Great.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia had given him a list. He was glad that she finally trusted him enough to give him the recipe for Stiles’ mother’s soup. He would have texted Stiles about it, but he’d rather surprise him. Stiles needed something good to happen today. Even if it was just a bowl of his favorite soup. He had just finished paying for everything and was starting towards the exit when his phone began to ring.

“Scott?” he frowned. Not that he hated Scott, but it wasn’t like the beta called him on a regular basis

“Derek, you have to get to the apartment.” He said, sounding frantic. Fear wrapped around his heart, and he froze.

“What happened? Is everything okay? I told you to-”

“Stiles is missing. I got to our apartment and there was smoke everywhere.” Scott interrupted him.

“What?”

“It smelled off. I think…Derek, she _took him._ ”

“Stay there. Call Cora and Peter. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

He didn’t care if he broke every single traffic law on the way there. If he got pulled over, maybe he would get lucky and it would be the sheriff. Or maybe that wouldn’t be too lucky, considering that the reason he was speeding was because the man’s son was now missing. _He’ll be okay. You’ll find him, and then you’ll kill Kate._ He told himself. Stiles was going to be okay. He had to be.

He pulled up in front of the building and raced up to Stiles and Scott’s apartment. Scott was standing outside, pacing, and Kira was standing next to the door.

“What happened?” Derek snarled.

“I don’t know. You told me to stay at her place!” Scott pointed out, eyes flashing gold.

“What is she doing here?”

“I can help!” Kira said enthusiastically. But Derek really didn’t think she could.

“You’re human. You’ll just get hurt. Or killed.”

“Hey.” Scott growled at him. Derek didn’t have time for this. Stiles –and probably Chris, now that he thought about it- was taken by Kate, and they needed to find them. Now. “Hear her out.”

“We don’t have time!”

“Okay, okay, I know I’ve never really been much help, or been involved at all, really, but look! I’m really good with a katana. Like, it scares me, how good I am, since I barely knew how to use it two days ago. It-”

“Just show me.” he told her. Scott growled again, and Derek glared at him. Kira closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and-

Almost took his head off. After the initial stun of that, and Kira’s many apologies, he had to acknowledge the fact that yes, her skills were impressive. And probably good enough to fight whatever the hell Kate was.

“Where did you- never mind.” Derek sighed. Behind him, Cora and Peter finally arrived.

“Taken your little boy toy, hasn’t she?” His uncle wondered. Derek resisted the urge to just claw his throat out.

“Do you know how?” Cora frowned. Scott unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

Nothing really seemed out of place. But Derek could smell the faint fear and panic in the air. And Kate. Her scent came from the open window. There was a dart on the floor, and peter was holding what looked to be teargas. They couldn’t put up a fight. She’d knocked them out. She’d been planning this.

“Can you feel anything through the pack bond?” Derek managed to get out through clenched teeth. He was trying to keep down the pure rage he felt. Going on a crazed massacre wasn’t going to help anyone.

“No.” Cora shook her head. “Wherever he is, he’s either out of range, or she’s blocking it somehow.”

“Tell me nephew, since you knew her best, where would Kate be hiding?” Peter asked. Okay, screw help, there was no reason to keep Peter around if he was just going to make dumb remarks.

“Derek.” Cora warned. “Now isn’t the time.”

“Why don’t you tell him that?” he sneered. His claws were digging into the flesh of his palms, and he was desperately trying to keep control.

“If you don’t give us some useful information, I _will_ kill you Peter. I can’t care if you’re family.” Cora threatened. Peter frowned.

“Really feeling the love, kids.”

“How old are you?” Scott wondered. Peter rolled his eyes.

“As offensive as you found the question, Derek, I was half serious. You spent more time with her than any of us.” As much as he hated to admit it, his uncle was right.

“Well?” Cora raised an eyebrow. Derek thought for a moment.

When he was with Kate… he worked hard to repress those memories. He’d been a minor, she was at least ten years older than him, and manipulative. Half the time, they did things he never wanted to do. But he had done them. Because he thought he loved her.

He tried to remember what she told him about hunting. It wasn’t much. She ‘hadn’t wanted to upset him’. _Right_. She did have this one place she liked to go though. After they broke up. To torture him.

“I might know where they are.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles didn’t know how long they’d been locked up. Chris had only woken up a few minutes before him and neither of them had a way to tell time. It had to be less than a day, though.

No one had come for them. Not Kate, not hunters, not anyone. He was beginning to wonder if maybe this was the torture. Wondering when they would be taken. When they would be killed. Chris was holding it together a lot better than Stiles was. He flinched every time the older man moved.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Mr. Argent finally spoke.

“I know. I know, it’s just…” he closed his eyes. “I’m scared.”

“They’ll find us.” He paused. “They may not care about me, but they care about you.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Stiles sighed.

“What?”

“We were taken for a reason. You’ve gotta know that. We’re bait. She’s going to use us against them.” He turned to look at him. Chris nodded.

“Or she just wants to kill us to toy with him. She’s always been like that.”

Stiles frowned up at the dirty light above them. The panic was still just barely consuming him. Derek was probably tearing the town apart looking for him. Scott too. What if he died? What would they do? What would his father do? What if this was it? His last words to his best friend –his _brother-_ would be ‘fine’. His last actual words to Derek were ‘I’m out of soup’. Those weren’t good enough at all. He needed more time. He needed to tell them-

“…les!” Someone was shaking him. Why were they shaking him? Why couldn’t he breathe? “Just take a deep breath.” Someone told him. He could barely hear Chris over the pounding of his heart in his ears. “Stiles, you have to breathe.”

“I-I-I-”

“Don’t try to talk. Just breathe. We’re going to get out of this.” he assured him.

After what seemed like hours, his’ breathing finally slowed down. When he opened his eyes (they were closed?), Argent was watching him, and unreadable expression on his face.

“What?”

“Does that happen a lot?” He wondered.

“Yeah.” He winced. “I think the pain meds are wearing off.” He rubbed at his neck.

“We must’ve been here for a few hours then.” He informed him. Stiles nodded. He was tired. And hungry. The only thing he’d had today were the waffles Derek made them. He wrapped his arms around his legs and turned towards the corner. How long would they be stuck here?

“It’s my birthday next week.” He mumbled. Not that it mattered.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. An awkward, melancholy silence settled over them for what seemed like days. Really, it had to have been minutes.

“This isn’t her style.” Argent said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Kate doesn’t lock people up. She liked to start with torture. Keep them strung up. She’s working with someone.” Oh. Well that couldn’t be good. Who the hell would want to work with a crazy ex-hunter/ were creature?

“Oh no.” Stiles whispered.

“What is it?”

“I think I know who she’s working with.”

“Who?”

Before Stiles could answer, there was a loud clanking sound, and the door made a horrible screeching noise as it opened. They scrambled back until their backs hit the wall opposite. He watched as three hunters came in, armed and aiming at them. And then _she_ came in.

“You really are dumb aren’t you?” Sara sent then a wicked grin.

 

* * *

 

 

Scott wasn’t stupid. People always assumed he was, since he was really oblivious to a lot of things. He wasn’t as astute as Stiles. Maybe that was his father’s fault, since he dropped him on his head as a child.

He did things differently. Stiles liked to focus on their problems all the time and all at once. And he’d keep focusing on them until they were solved, even if it took days. Scott, however, liked to figure things out one at a time. It took longer, but he still came up with a solution in the end. Right now though, he really wished they had Stiles with them. And not just because he was much better at coming up with plans.

The pack, along with Peter (that guy gave him the creeps, and he refused to think of him as pack), was standing in the middle of the old Hale house basement. It was a mess. There was a huge hole in the ground where the floor was supposed to be. Apparently, that was the grave Peter had crawled out of (what???). No one would explain that to him. He was too afraid to ask anyway.

“He’s not here!” Derek roared, gripping his hair and pulling. Scott looked down at the floor, studying the charred wood as if it had all the answers.

“Why did you think he would be?” he wondered.

“Because! This is where she-” he cut off. “Just because.”

“No.” Scott shook his head. “Not ‘just because’. That’s not an answer, Derek. I don’t care how hard it is for you to get the words out, my brother is missing.” He glared at him. Derek glared right back, eyes blazing.

“I know! I care about him too, you know.”

“Don’t-” His cellphone started ringing in his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed down his words. he couldn’t fight with Derek right now. “Hello?” he asked when the phone was pressed to his ear.

“Where’s Stiles? Is he okay?” Lydia asked, frantic. Scott gaped at her, though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“Lydia?” he wondered. “How did you know?”

“I’m a banshee, remember?”

“I thought you found the bodies.” He whispered. He hoped they wouldn’t find Stiles’ body.

“That’s not all I do. I think I can find him. Where are you?”

“The Hale house.”

“I’ll meet you there.” And with that, she hung up. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and looked to Cora.

“It’s almost midnight.” The young alpha sighed. “I don’t think we’ll find him today, Der.”

Scott gripped Kira’s hand. What if Kate had already killed him? What if all they found of his best friend and Allison’s father were their mangled corpses? He didn’t think he could handle that. Too many people he cared about had died already.

“Are you saying we should give up?” Derek asked, voice low.

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind leaving Argent to die.” Peter shrugged

“No. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just pointing it out.” Cora told him, shooting her uncle an icy glare. “Calm down.”

“I’m trying.”

“We’re going to find them, right?” Kira asked. Scott looked back at her. it was the first time she’d spoken since they arrived. “Right?”

“I hope so.” Scott whispered, watching Derek crouch down and put his head in his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles didn’t remember being knocked out. All he knew was that once minute, he was staring up at Sara from the floor, and now he wasn’t.

His hoodie had disappeared. There was cold, rough metal pressed against his back and arms. There were thick leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, holding up against the rusty metal. Across from him, maybe ten feet away, Argent was tied up in a metal chain. There were chains around his torso and arms, and his ankles were handcuffed to each leg. The chair was bolted to the floor.

“You know, I didn’t come here for Derek. Not originally.” Sara started, cleaning her knife to Stiles’ left. “I came here because some of my buddies heard that this place was just filled to the brim with all sorts of monsters. Hunter’s paradise.” She sighed dreamily, as if she was talking about some crush she had, instead of murdering innocent people.

“There’s a code.” Chris spat. She turned to face him.

“The code is fucking shit. A monster is a monster, why should I have to wait for them to kill someone before I put them down?”

“If you hate them so much, why are you working with one?” Stiles gasped out, struggling against the cuffs that held him. Sara smiled at him, hands on his hips.

“Kate and I have an…agreement.”

“You were part of Gerard’s following.” The older man realized. Sara reached up and ran a hand down Stiles’ stomach. He squirmed.

“Your father was a brilliant man, Chris. Shame you didn’t turn out like him.”

“He was deranged.”

“To be great is to be misunderstood.” She said. Stiles could help but scoff.

“Do the villains normally quote Emerson before they torture people?” He was surprised his voice didn’t crack as he spoke.

“I am not the villain in the story, snowflake.” She ran her hands lightly over the tray of knives in front of him. “You are. You and every other monster in the word.”

“I’m not a werewolf.”

“No, but you are something.” She picked up a small dagger, running her finger over the sharp edge of the blade.

“What are you talking about?” She ignored him. The door behind Chris opened, and Kate walked down the steps, eyes glowing that neon green he’d seen hours ago. She stalked over, looking very much like an animal hunting prey, and held up a clawed hand. Stiles’ heart was hammering, and he was sure she could hear it. But it only made her smile wider. Sick fuck.

“Kate.” Chris warned.

“You’re a special kind of creature, Stiles.” She purred. “And I want to know how you work. Messing with Derek…that’s a bonus. Two birds with one stone.”

“Wha-” the words were stuck in his bruised throat. White hot pain bloomed in his side, and all he could manage to get out was a scream.

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia had been hearing it for the past two days. Nails scratching against wood. She couldn’t get it out of her head. She knew what it was the moment she turned on the radio. There was no music playing. Just screams. Someone was in trouble, and she had a sinking feeling that she knew who it was. That was only confirmed when she called Scott the other day.

“How is this helping?” Derek snapped, watching her. She ran her fingers over the window sill, searching. She didn’t know what she was searching for, exactly, which was frustrating. But Alan had said to trust her instincts. And her instincts were telling her that she needed to look here. If only they told her was she was looking for.

“Shhh.” She lifted her hand and gently tapped the glass. Low whispering seemed to come from all around her. “Did you hear that?”

“No.” Cora shook her head. She tapped the glass again, harder this time, but nothing happened.

“Scott?” she turned to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“Does Stiles still have Malia’s guitar?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need it.” he gave her a confused look, but led her to the teacher’s room. He pulled the guitar down from the top of the closet and set it down on the bed.

“What does her guitar have to do with any of this?” Derek asked, clearly frustrated. She ignored him and pinched a string between her thumb and pointer finger. She pulled it up, then released it. The whispered filled the room again, louder. She still couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. The scratching noise she’d been hearing all day got louder.

“What are you trying to say?” she whispered. “Where is he?”

“How do we know she isn’t just insane?” Peter asked. someone growled in response. She plucked another string. The whispering was louder, almost unintelligible. But there was one voice she recognized. _P-please! I’m not-_ Stiles’ pained cries were cut off with a horrible scream. She stumbled back a step, wincing.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” She mumbled, rubbing at her forehead. “I can’t- they’re not telling me where he is.”

“They?” Peter raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the room stared at her expectantly. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“They. The…whatever. Voices. I don’t know.”

“This isn’t helping.” Derek stormed out of the room. Lydia sat down on the bed and plucked another string. More unintelligible whispering.

“This is so frustrating.” She grumbled. “I swear, it literally…”

“Literally what, Lydia?” Cora asked, brows furrowed.

“It literally makes me want to scream.” She ran a hand through her messy red curls and looked up at the ceiling.

“Do it.” Peter said suddenly. Lydia frowned at him.

“I’m not just going to scream for no reason.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. She looked down at the floor, where Stiles’ favorite book was lying face down. Maybe-

Claws racked across her side, and before she knew it, a scream tore its way out of her throat. And then it was like everything clicked.

She wasn’t sure how all this worked, exactly. But the scream brought her some clarity. The answer to everything they had been doing for the past two days was right in front of her. She almost had it.

The scream seemed to echo around the room long after she was done. Or maybe that was Scott’s growling.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek would be happy to let Scott rip Peter to shreds. Really. But we would at least like to know why.

He’d been silently fuming and panicking in the living room when a scream louder than humanly possible came from Stiles’ room. When he went to see what happened, he got there just in time to see Scott launch himself at Peter, face shifted and eyes blazing. Lydia was sitting on the bed, a shocked expression on her face and a hand clutching her side.

“Scott.” He tried to get the beta off his uncle. “Scott, stop!”

“ENOUGH.” Cora roared, red bleeding into her eyes. It was enough to send every other werewolf in the room scrambling back. It took all of his control not to cower in front of her. “Scott, take Lydia to the bathroom and get her cleaned up. Peter, get the fuck out. I’ll call you if we need you.” She instructed. Scott nodded stiffly, grabbing Lydia and Kira and going down the Hall. She watched as Peter Stalked angrily out of the apartment, door slamming shut.

“What the hell happened?” He rubbed at a spot on his arm where Scott scratched him.

“Peter wanted Lydia to scream. So he scratched her. Naturally, he thought violence was the answer.” She rubbed her hand down her face.  “Derek…” her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I don’t want this.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to be an Alpha.” She looked up at him. She looked scared. “Last time you were hurt, I couldn’t even keep my cool long enough to help you. All I’m doing here is stopping fights. I can’t do this.”

“We’ll figure something out.” He promised. She blinked the tears away and nodded.

“Yeah.” She whispered. “Okay.”

“Guys.” Kira appeared in the doorway. “Lydia said she might know where he is.”

He hoped they found him this time. He hoped so much it hurt. Two days without him was enough. Who knew what she had done to him already. What she’d done to the both of them.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles’ whole body throbbed. He couldn’t tell where the pain was coming from anymore. He wondered if this was how punching bags felt.

Kate had been persistent. She asked about what he was. What he could do. Stuff about Derek. He just kept telling her he didn’t know. That she was crazy. She didn’t like that very much. She’d racked her claws across his chest, burned the palms of his hands, run a blade down the side of his face. It lasted for hours. All she was getting out of him was screams.

She seemed to realize he didn’t know anything after a while. Then she’d given him a break and tortured her brother instead. He was a lot better at holding it in. he kept the same angry expression on his face throughout it all, and he hadn’t made a sound. Then again, she didn’t torture him as much as she did.

Sara had come in and taken him to a different room. He didn’t know where. His eyes had been covered. She asked him about the supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. Her methods of torture were a lot more creative than Kate’s. She would dunk his head in a tub of water for every ‘I don’t know’, have one of her brute hunter’s throw a punch after every ‘screw you’. She’d flipped him onto his cut up chest and cut two long gashed into his shoulder blades.

“Like wings.” She hummed when he’d stopped screaming.

Now, He was back in the room they’d started out in. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, a small puddle of blood beneath his broken body. He couldn’t bring himself to move. He could hardly breathe. He thought maybe one of the hunters had broken a few ribs.

“Hey.” Argent shouted. Stiles startled, groaning and opening his eyes. “You have to stay awake. Keep your eyes open.” He nodded weakly. ‘Talk to me. Tell me a story.”

“Hurts.” He managed to gasp out. His throat had already hurt when they started, since Kate had strangled him. It was a bit better now, though it didn’t really matter, since the rest of him looked like they put him through the shredder.

“I know. But try.” He insisted. He sounded a lot better than Stiles felt. He could feel his eyes closing again.

“I’m tired.” He whispered, forcing his eyes to remain open. The ceiling wasn’t very  interesting. The light was flickering, and it hurt his eyes.

“Me too.” The man coughed. Stiles let his head lol to the side. He could see Chris’ legs, and just past them, his mother’s hoodie. It was stained with dirt, and some blood from when the older man had tried to use it to slow the bleeding on his back. He flipped over with a yelp and reached towards it. If he was going to die, he was at least going to have part of his mom with him.

The second his hand touched the soft, worn red fabric, he felt something. Like a tug, somewhere deep in his chest, and he sucked in a sharp, pained breath.

“Derek.” He breathed.

“Do you hear something?” Chris asked. Stiles felt it again, like someone had pulled at his heart.

He was lying on a cold, dirty cement floor. His stomach was wet with his own blood from when he dragged himself halfway across the room. Everything hurt. He felt broken and useless. But for some reason, he felt hopeful.

“Wh-what…” he swallowed. “How do wolves s-signal their location to the rest of the pack?” he asked.

“They howl.” Argent answered curiosity clear in his voice.

“I really hope this works.” Stiles muttered. _Cause if it doesn’t, I’ll sound pathetic._

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and howled.

 

* * *

 

 

They had just gotten into the car when Derek felt it. A faint tug on the bond. He tightened his hands on the wheel. He couldn’t let himself hope. If he hoped and was wrong, he didn’t think he could handle it. Hesitantly, he tugged back.

Pain. Pain and fear. He only felt it for a second, but that was enough.

“He’s alive.” He whispered. Cora raised her eyebrows. “He-”

Derek was cut off by a low, pained howl coming from their right. He’d never heard it before, but he recognized it. He didn’t-

“What was that?” Kira asked (how had she heard that?).

“It can’t be.” Cora breathed. “Humans can’t…do you think…”

“It was Stiles.” Despite the worry he felt, he could feel the beginnings of a smile on his lips. If anyone could find a way to do that, it was Stiles.

“Where is he?” Scott asked as Derek started to speed down the road.

“Eichen House.” Lydia whispered. “A few years after high school, the place was shut down. It’s been abandoned ever since.”

“I heard about that. One of the orderlies was a serial killer. He’d been forcing patients to commit suicide. Stiles’ dad had been on that case.”

“How did you know?” Kira wondered.

“Banshee.” Derek saw Lydia shrug in the rearview mirror. “I don’t know how it works yet.”

Derek tuned out their conversations, focusing on the road and on the part of the bond that had suddenly flared to life. Stiles was alive. In intense amounts of pain, but alive. And now they knew where he was. They were going to save him. And then he was going to rip Kate’s heart out of her chest. She should had stayed dead.

“Derek.” Cora put her hand over his. He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel a bit and took a deep breath. “I called Peter. He’d on his way.”

“Do we really need him?”

“He wants to kill her as much as you do. It would be good to have backup.” She pointed out. Derek sighed.

“He wants to kill you too. He isn’t stable. He’d do anything for power.” He glanced at her. “There might be a way for you to give it up. Without dying.”

“How?” she furrowed her brows, frowning t the road before them.

“I’m not sure. Deaton said it was possible.”

“I…” she paused. “What would happen after that? We can’t be alphaless. It would be too easy for other packs to challenge the territory. We’d be vulnerable.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He promised. “Don’t worry about it. You shouldn’t have to.” He swallowed, guilt weighing down on him. “I shouldn’t have made you do that. I’m sorry. I knew you were too young to handle this.”

“You saved my life.”

“I could have killed him myself.”

Derek thought back to when he had found Cora. The alpha pack had her. He’d made an agreement with Deucalion (one that he didn’t want to think about), and the alpha had agreed to set her free. One of his pack mates, however, had other ideas. He and Derek fought. Derek almost died. And then Cora killed the alpha. It had been a rough coupled of moths for them.

“You were dying.” She said softly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Hurry.” Lydia said suddenly. Derek glanced back at her in the mirror. She looked terrified.

“What is it?”

 Silence.

“Lydia?”

“Derek.” She swallowed thickly. Dread settled deep in his stomach. The entire car was silent. “He’s dying.”

 

* * *

 

 

Chris winced as he took a deep breath. He wasn’t as badly injured as Stiles. Maybe that was because Kate hadn’t wanted to injure her family. Or maybe it was just because he didn’t really mean anything to Derek.

The howl had surprised him. And apparently it surprised the kid too. Humans shouldn’t be able to howl like that. Maybe he really was something supernatural. The question was, what was he?

“Stiles.” He called, noticing that he had fallen quiet again. The kid’s body was too still. For a few moments, he didn’t get an answer. “Stiles.”

“I can’t.” He panted miserably. _He’s alive. For now._

“You said you felt something, right? So just hold on.”

“I…” he trailed off.  It was a few seconds before he spoke again. “I could be wrong.”

“They’re coming. You know they are.” He told him.

“If I don’t…” he paused. “Tell my dad-”

“Stop. We’re getting out of here.” He didn’t know for sure. But maybe the hope would keep him alive for just a bit longer.

“Look at me.” Stiles rolled over. “I know…we’re getting out. I just…I might be…leaving in a body bag.” He closed his eyes. ‘Tell my dad…everything. Tell him… about everything.” Chris sighed. He was right. He wasn’t looking so good. If they didn’t get out soon, Kate wouldn’t have to do anything else to him.

There was a muffled crash from outside. He sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain. For a moment, he thought maybe one of the hunters dropped something. But there was a loud roar, and the sound of gunfire. They were here.

“Stiles.” He called. The boy didn’t answer. “Stiles. Open your eyes.” He tried again, scooting closer. He reached out and pressed two fingers over the pulse point on his neck. He almost thought maybe he had died already, but then he found it. A slow, weak pulse. He was still alive, just barely. Chris forcing himself onto his feet, his broken ankle screaming in protest, and started pounding on the door, hoping to alert whoever was close enough.

He just hoped they got there before the kid was gone for good.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek pushed the hunter’s limp body off him and looked around.

Scott had gotten shot with wolfsbane, but he was still standing, growling and snapping at a hunter. He’d managed to get the gun out of the guy’s hands, and now he was trying to get a knife out of his face. Cora was in a similar position, except she hadn’t been shot. Peter had gone off to find Kate, since they hadn’t found her when they burst into the basement. He could see Lydia out of the corner of his eyes, standing frozen at the entrance.

“Go.” He yelled at her. She jolted as if he’d slapped her. “Find them.” Something hit him in the back, and he whirled around, a howl escaping his lips. A hunter was standing a few feet away, crossbow in his hands.

“Derek!” he heard Cora scream. It wasn’t pained or panicked. “Your eyes.” what?

He didn’t have time to process what she said. Because, at that moment, several things happened at once.

Scott knocked the blade out of the hunter’s hand and hit him over the head hard enough to knock him out. Kira sliced the back of the legs of the guy that shot him. Peter came running down the steps, looking more panicked than he had ever seen him. And a roar that he’d never heard before came from somewhere in the building.

“We have to get out. Now.” Peter said. All around them, hunter’s bodies lay like abandoned ragdolls.

“What…” Scott panted, holding his side. “What was that?”

“Bad. Very, very bad.”

“What the hell, Peter? Just spit it out.” Cora growled. Blood stained her shirt, a still healing stab wound just under her collar bone.

“Berserkers.” Like they were supposed to know what that meant.

“Shit.” Okay, so apparently Cora knew. “We need to leave.” The light streaming in from the open basement door was suddenly being blocked. When they turned towards the door…

Derek could only describe it as a beast. It had once been a man, that much he could tell by the tanned skin of his arms and the faint human scent beneath it all. But he was twisted. His face was covered by a large animal skull, various furs and leathers wrapped around his legs and arms. In one of his hands, there was what looked like a dagger made of bone.

“How do we kill it?” Kira whispered.

“I don’t know.” Peter answered honestly. “I never knew anyone who could.” Great.

The next few minutes were a blur. Derek charged at it, but he didn’t know exactly what happened after that. One moment, he was clawing at its chest, the next, his claws were gone. His hearing was just…gone. The wolf in him had disappeared. And he only had a second to think about it before a searing pain flared right over his heart, and he dropped down at the base of the stairs.

Someone shouted his name.

There was a hand around his.

Cora’s face faded out of view.

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia made her way through the abandoned building, trying to keep her calm. There was this _feeling_ in the pit of her stomach, and she didn’t know what it meant. It got worse the more she wandered. She jumped at every creak of wood, every growl that came from below her. Every pound on the door and every shout. Every shout… _Stiles._

She raced down the hall to her right, stopping in front of the door the banging and shouting was coming from.

“Stiles?” she called, hope coloring her voice.

“Chris. Argent.” Came the reply. She paused, frowning.

“Mr. Argent? What…You’re back?” They kept this from her? Did they know? _Now isn’t the time, Lydia._ What if it wasn’t him? What if it was a trick? “How do I know it’s really you?”

“My daughter’s name was Allison.” He said, exasperated.

“The Argent’s were an infamous hunting family. Anyone-”

“ _Lydia._ ” He called. “We don’t have time.” _Its him._

“Right, sorry.” She looked down at the lock. “I can’t open the door.”

“Try!” he insisted. She bit her lip, inspecting the lock.

“I can’t!” She shouted back, hoping no one heard her. “It’s padlocked.”

“Damn it.” there was a loud bang.

“How bad are you guys?” She asked. the feeling got worse. _Why isn’t Stiles talking?_

“I’ll be fine.” She was sure that was a lie. “Stiles is unconscious. They cut him up pretty bad.” Oh god.

“They?” he whispered, more to herself than to him. A low growl from the end of the hall startled her. She turned slowly, heart caught in her throat. She recognized that woman. “Kate.” She breathed.

“Aw.” She laughed, thought it sounded more like a hysteric cackle. “You’re one of my niece’s little friends from school.” She bared her teeth then, eyes shining a bright highlighter green. “Remember me?”

 

* * *

 

 

Cora Sat next to her brother, holding his hand in hers and pulling his pain. She brushed the hair from his forehead, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her pack was fighting, and they needed her help, and someone was tugging on her sleeve but god she didn’t _care._ Her only family (screw Peter) was dying right in front of her.

She’d seen it happen. She could sense the change. The distinct scent of wolf that came from Derek just…evaporated. His eyes flashed gold once before his face shifted back to human, and his claws disappeared. She’d screamed his name, and he’d looked up just in time for that _thing_ to dig the bone blade into his chest.

“Derek.” She sobbed. His eyes fluttered open, but his heart rate was slowing down.

“Cora.” He breathed. She smiled at him, aiming for calm, but she probably didn’t look it. “I can’t- you have to…”

“Shh.” She ran her thumb over his cheek. “Save it. We’ll find him. You’ll find him.” He chuckled, then gasped. Blood leaked down his lips. She gripped his hand tighter.

“This is a…mortal wound, and…I feel pretty mortal right now.” He whispered. Of course. Her brother was trying to joke with her while he died. Stiles was rubbing off on him.

“Shut up.” She shook her head.

“Go. Find him.” He told her, eyes going wide.

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Cora…” he sighed. His eyelids drooped. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Der. Now get up. You’ll be fine.” He laughed.

“Right.” she almost didn’t hear him. His eye slipped closed.

“No.” She couldn’t accept this. _“No!”_ She screamed, tasting salty tears in her mouth. She heard the bones of his hand break under the pressure. “Derek! Wake _up_!” she pleaded. Nothing. No response. Not even a heartbeat. “WAKE THE FUCK UP! YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME YOU ASSHOLE. YOU PROMISED WE’D STAY TOGETHER. WE’RE A FUCKING FAMILY. _FAMILY_ , DEREK. YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE NOW, YOU HEAR ME?!” She yelled, sobbing. She put her head on his blood soaked chest, breathing in his scent. “So just…Just _wake up!”_

Nothing happened for a few seconds. And then everything happened.

She felt a pull deep in her chest, and then it was like she was a tub filled with water and someone pulled the plug. She gasped, looking down at where she held her brother’s hand. The black veins were still on their hands. Except, instead of pulling his pain, she was giving him something. She felt lightheaded.

“Derek?” She asked softly.  She couldn’t hear. It was like the entire room was put on mute. She closed her eyes, silently begging for her brother to come back. _Please._

_He’s all I have left._

She didn’t open her eyes until she heard the soft, steady thumping of something in front of her. She held her breath and opened her eyes. Her brother was gone.

A large black wolf sat in his place, eyes blazing red.

It charged forward, jaw latching onto the berserkers arm and ripping it clean off.

 

* * *

 

 

_Protect the pack. Kill the threat._

_Are they safe now?_

“Find him, Derek.”

_Someone’s missing._

_Someone important to the pack. Important to him._

“Run.”

_First floor? No._

_Second floor? No._

_Third floor?_

_Four hearts beating._

_The scent of pain. Fear. Anxiety. Panic. Sickness._

_There’s another threat._

“You’re supposed to be dead. I heard you die!”

_Smells like fire. Earth. Blood._

_Not her blood._ His _blood._

_Stiles_

_Rip her apart. Get rid of the threat._

“The door won’t open. I’ve tried.”

_Go through the wall._

“That works.”

“Is that…”

“I think its Derek.”

_There’s a body on the floor._

_He smells like blood. Like fear. Like sickness._

_Whine. Can he hear you?_

_He smells wrong. It hurts._

_His heart’s not beating._

_He howled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...
> 
> Was that okay? I re-wrote it a bunch of times, and this version just seemed like the best one? It took a while to write this. It's the longest one. I could go back and try to write it differently. Maybe its just because I've been re-reading it so much, that im just sick of this chapter. I don't
> 
> Yup. Derek can now do a full shift. And he's an alpha now (he is also a Pokemon. That was all I could think about during that last part of season four. Seriously. 'I evolved". Really Derek?). I liked that part of the ending, so I decided to at it to the story (the last part is from Derek's POV. He's a wolf, so I figure his thoughts would be a lot simpler). And of course Sara was working with her. How do you think she found out about Beacon Hills in the first place?
> 
> I haven't written the last chapter yet, so it could take a while. Or not, since I know what I'm going to put in it.
> 
> It'll be up by the end of my winter break (January sixth? maybe?). I think.


	22. I know I wont get out if I fall in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek spends the fourth day after the event in Stiles’ room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The final chapter. Wow. I cant believe I actually finished a fic holy shit.
> 
> Chapter title from the song [Dark in My Imagination](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVzXzLytbb0) by Of Verona

When Derek woke up, it was dark outside. There was a dull ache over his entire body, and it was quiet. He couldn’t put his thoughts in order.

“Derek?” Someone asked, voice hushed. He blinked a couple of times and turned his head towards the source of the voice. _Cora._ “Hey.”

“Hi.” He whispered. Because he didn’t know what else to say. In the dark, Derek could make out the small, tired smile on her face. She leaned forward and took his hand in hers, sighing.

“Do you…” she paused. “Do you remember what happened?” she wondered. He frowned. It took a few seconds. But then then all the muddled memories became clearer, and he bolted up, looking around frantically.

Stiles. Kate had kidnapped him. She’d taken him and Argent to the abandoned mental institution and tortured them. But they’d found him. He remembered that. They’d gotten there and they fought off hunters and the Berserkers showed up and he lost his wolf and then…his memories after that were fuzzy. But he remembered one thing. He remembered finding his mate’s body, broken and bleeding and way too still.

“Stiles.” He managed to gasp out. He started to scramble off the bed, staining to listen for another heartbeat in what he now recognized was his loft. “No no no _Stiles._ ” Cora’s hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back down.

“Derek, calm down.” She said gently.

“Stiles, he- I saw him- Cora, what- where-” _Oh god, Stiles._

“He’s alive.” She said once he finally stayed put. “He’s at the hospital. Scott and the sheriff are with him right now. He’s in the ICU, but he’s alive.” _Oh thank god._ Derek searched for the bond that connected him to the younger man. It was still there, not broken, just numb. He breathed out a sigh of relief. “DO you remember what happened after…after that Berserker got you?” His sister asked. He frowned and shook his head.

“I thought…I was human. I know I was. How…”

“I healed you. Or, I think so. I’m not really sure how that worked.” She leaned back and ran a hand through her hair. “You died. I thought I lost you, Der. But then…I don’t know how, but I…You were a wolf. And actual huge, black wolf. Like mom. And your eyes were red. I don’t know how, but I gave up being an alpha. After that, you freaking tore the berserkers apart. All of them. And Kate. And Sara, because, surprise, they were working together. When you found Stiles…” She shook her head, as if she didn’t believe what she was saying.

“How is he alive?” It pained him that he had to ask.

“Don’t know how to answer that either. His heart wasn’t beating. I know it wasn’t. For a good minute, he was dead. And you howled, and he was just alive. After that, Scott and Lydia got him to the hospital. He didn’t look too good. I don’t know what happened to Peter, and honestly, I don’t care. Kira and I brought you here. You were pretty torn up after the rest of the berserkers attacked.” She explained. “Oh and Kira isn’t human. We don’t know what she is yet, but I know she isn’t human. Sara tried electrocuting her, and she just _took it._ Nothing happened. She came out perfectly fine. And her eyes glowed.”

“Stiles is alive.” That was all he really cared about. He could deal with everything else later. “I have to see him.”

“You’re still healing.”

“I don’t care.” He slowly got off the bed. Nothing hurt too badly. He would be fine.

“The sheriff knows.” Derek paused.

“What?”

“Argent told him everything. Apparently, stiles asked him to. I don’t know if I believe him, but I guess Stiles will deal with it when he wakes up.” She didn’t sound so sure about that last part. He swallowed thickly.

“How bad is he?” he asked, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

“It was bad.” She whispered. “There was blood everywhere…” she looked up at him. “They didn’t think he’d make it at first.” He closed his eyes and tried not to cry.

“And what about Scott? Lydia? What do they think?”

“Lydia said he was strong. She didn’t sense anything bad. That’s good, right?” she sounded hopeful.

“I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

 

Werewolves tended to avoid hospitals. Not just because it would be a problem if anyone found out about their healing abilities.

The smell of sickness and death was always there. No matter how much they scrubbed the walls or cleaned to floors, they couldn’t hide it. That horrible lemon and ammonia scent just stung their noses. Even in the maternity ward, it smelled like death. And that was the main reason they avoided hospitals.

Derek couldn’t avoid them now though. Because Stiles was in there somewhere.

“Stiles Stilinski?” the nurse at the desk frowned at the name. Derek hated that he even had to ask. That he couldn’t hear his mate’s heartbeat or pick out his scent and follow it.

“He’s in the ICU. No one but family is allowed. Are you family?” She raised an eyebrow. He could say yes. But she might check, if she didn’t already know who he was.

“No, but-”

“If you’re not family you can’t see him. You have to wait until he’s in recovery.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Derek bit back a growl and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Look, he’s like family, okay? I just need to see him once, make sure-”

“No.” she glared at him. Her gaze shifted to his left, and she relaxed a bit right when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked down to see Melissa McCall smiling sadly at him. She turned to the nurse.

“He’s with me. It’ll only take a few minutes.” She promised. The nurse bit her lip. She looked hesitant for a few moments, but eventually she nodded and gestured for them to go. Melissa started leading him down the hall and towards the elevator. Once the metal doors closed in front of them, Derek let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, studying his shoes.

“Mind telling me what happened to my best friend’s son?” She asked. Her voice was cold. He deserved that. Oh god, did he deserve it.

“I should have left.” he whispered. He hated how his voice shook. He didn’t think he could hold back the tears much longer. When he looked up, she was watching his, soft expression on her face. “If I left, he would be fine right now.”

“What happened?” she asked again, gentler now. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He hadn’t even realized they were moving. The pair stepped out and into the hallway.

“Kate. Argent.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and took a deep breath.

“What does this have to do with her? She died years ago.”

“No, she lived. She’s the one that set my house on fire. She got turned by accident. She came back and…” he dropped his hands. “Stiles was bait, I guess. The torture was optional. She gets off on it. She probably would have killed all of us whether she tortured him on not.” He didn’t want to look her in the eyes. “It’s my fault. I should have stayed with him.”

“It’s not your fault.” She said. She sounded so sure. “You saved him, didn’t you.”

“I shouldn’t have had to.” He said miserably.

“You’re just as bad as he is.” She scoffed. He looked up to see a small smile on her lips. “Come on. He’s right through there.” She pointed to the double doors a few feet away. The letters ICU were in bright red above them.

They had put him in one of those rooms where the wall was basically just a big window. There were curtains, but they were pulled back, so the doctors and nurses could see if anything went wrong. Derek paused, staring into the room and at the figure on the bed.

Stiles was as pale as the white sheets he lay under. The only color on his face was the light lavender under his eyes and the dark red of a healing cut on the side of his face. There was a small cut on his lip. Derek almost hadn’t noticed it, since there was a tube shoved down his throat. Hands were wrapped in thick white gauze, and there was an IV stuck to his forearm. Wires led from under the collar of his hospital gown to a heart monitor.

“I shouldn’t.” He mumbled. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn away.

“John doesn’t blame you. And Stiles probably doesn’t either.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “He’s getting better. He might be in recovery tomorrow.”

“How long has he been here?” _How many days was I asleep?_

“Three days.”

“Jesus.” He breathed. He’d been out that long?

“He’s healing surprisingly fast. When they brought him in, we thought he’d be here for at least a week.” She offered. He was too focused on Stiles to really question why Stiles healed so quickly. “Go on.” She urged him towards the door.

Being inside the room wasn’t much different than being outside. Except now, Derek could hear Stiles’ heart beating under the sounds of all the machines. He swallowed thickly, taking one of the teacher’s hands in his. His fingers were cold. He closed his eyes and started to pull some of his pain. Because he needed to feel like he was doing _something_ to help.

Maybe this was how Stiles felt the day he’d been taken.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek spends the fourth day after the _event_ in Stiles’ room. Sometime in the night, they replaced the tube in his throat with a clear mask that covered his nose and mouth. The sheriff was there. Derek had been afraid that he would be angry. But he wasn’t.

“There was an anonymous tip the other day.” He said. It was the first time he’d spoken that day. “Apparently, someone saw a group of suspicious people hanging around Eichen House.”

“Oh.” Derek found the hospital floor very interesting at the moment.

“We found six bodies. It looked like an animal attack.” The sheriff was watching him. He could feel his eyes on him. Derek didn’t really know what to say. Was he anger that Derek killed those people? “I’m glad you did it.” He wasn’t expecting that. He whirled around to face him, eyes wide.

“What?”

“I probably would have done it if you didn’t.” He said it slowly, like he was trying to get Derek to understand something. After a few moments, Derek nodded, looking back up at Stiles. “So…werewolves, huh?”

“Yeah.” Derek said quietly.

“You’re not the only one, are you.” Not a question.

“No. Scott too. And my sister.”

“Argent told me…Not all of your family were werewolves, were they?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.” He put a hand on his shoulder. Derek kind of wanted to laugh right now. Stiles probably would. The sheriff had arrested him countless times in te past, and now here they were, comforting each other, in a way. He reached up and put has had over’s Stiles’, watching the black veins disappear into his sweater. “What is that?”

“We can take the pain of other people.” He explained. “And animals. It won’t heal him, but he won’t be in as much pain.” it was quiet for a few minutes after that.

“I’m glad he has you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles’ limbs felt like lead. He gave up trying to open his eyes. There was something soft draped over him, and someone’s hand was on his wrist. They were warm. There was a soft beeping noise to his left, and something was tickling his nose with every breath he took. His mind was a bit foggy, and it took a few minutes to figure out where he was. And then another few to remember why he was there. The beeping got faster.

“Stiles?” Derek? He wanted to answer him, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a soft hum. He fought against the weight holding his eyelids down and opened his eyes. “Hey.” Derek smiled at him. Stiles blinked a couple of times before trying to speak again.

“Hi.” Well, that sounded awful. _How long have I been here?_

“It’s been five days.” Derek said, as if he read his mind. His confusion must have been visible on his face, because Derek laughed a bit. “You’ve asked before. You’ve woken up a few times, actually.”

“Oh.” He breathed. He looked around. No one else was in the room.

“Your dad’s at work. He was here a few hours ago.” Stiles vaguely remembers telling Mr. Argent something about his father.

“Does he know?” He whispered. Because whispering is all he can do at the moment.

“Yeah. He knows. “ Derek informed him. It sounded like he’d said it before.

“Scott?” He mumbled.

“Doing rounds, I think.” He nodded, closing his eyes. He felt tired. He always thought that was weird. How tired patients always were. He just woke up, and now here he was, falling asleep again. Derek’s hand was cupping the side of his face, thumb making soft circles under his eyes. Without having to open his eyes, he knew what Derek was thinking.

“Stop that.” He managed to mutter.

“Stop what?”

“Feeling guilty. Stop it.” he cracked an eye open. Derek was frowning. He lifted a shaky arm and put his hand on Derek’s wrist. It hurt. Whatever drugs they were giving him dulled most of the pain, but his palms had been burned. They were wrapped in thick white bandages. “We’re okay.” He assured him. “We’re alive.”

“Yeah. We are.” As his eyes slipped closed again, he felt lips on his forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you sourwolf.”

He thought he heard laughter before he drifted back into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Stiles woke up, he felt a lot more alert. Derek left to go get some food while Stiles took in the changes to the room. There were balloons everywhere, which was…confusing. They weren’t just getting well balloons. They were-

“Happy birthday, asshole.” Right. That was a thing that was supposed to happen this week.

“Your bedside manner needs work, Martin.” Stiles grinned at her as she walked in. behind her, Jackson was frowning down at the wrapped box in his hands like it had personally offended him. “Jackson.” This was how they greeted each other.

“Stilinski.” He nodded, setting the gift down.

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything.” He felt the need to say it. Lydia just rolled her eyes and leaned down to press a kiss to his uninjured cheek.

“Where’s Derek?”

“Cafeteria.” He fidgeted with the heart monitor on his pointer finger. Apparently, he kept trying to take it off in his sleep. Melissa threated to tie his arms down if he did it one more time. Not his fault the thing bothered him. “How bad was I? No one tells me anything around here.” He asked. Lydia bit her lip, looking uncertain.

“Jackson?” She called.

“Hmm?”

“Can you get me a bottle of water from the gift shop?” She asked him.

“What-”

“Now, please.” Jackson made an irritated grumbling noise before leaving the room.

“That bad?” Stiles asked. Lydia frowned and took and sat down in the chair nearest to the bed, where Derek had been sitting.

“You died, Stiles.” She said slowly.

“What?”

“We don’t know…you were dead for a couple of minutes, I think. And then you just weren’t. We don’t know how to explain it. Alan thinks-”

“He thinks it’s something supernatural.” Stiles remembered something that _she_ said during his time…away. He wasn’t ready to think about that yet. He knew that he’d have to deal with it eventually. But not right now. He couldn’t. Stiles like to ignore his problems until they went away. He was hoping maybe the memories would just block themselves off. “Did he saw what?”

“He’s not sure.” She shook her head. “You meant the physical damage though, didn’t you.” He nodded. “What do you remember?”

“They burned me.” he held up his hands and winced. “And I know I’m going to have a badass scar on the side of my face when this is over.” He tried to joke. She smiled a little.

“Kate…” he flinched at the name. “She cut up for chest. And the other one messed up your back. Stabbed you in the shoulder. Nothing to your legs though, so, that’s good.” He nodded. Derek appeared at the doorway, and he felt that familiar tug in his chest.

“I got this for you.” He holds up something shiny and gold, and it takes a few seconds for him to realize it’s a Twix bar. Derek grinned at him and put it on the small table next to Lydia. “Don’t tell Melissa. I think she’d skin me alive if she found out I’m sneaking you junk food.”

“Is that my birthday present?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“No.” He glances at Lydia. “I was sitting there.” Derek still has terrible social skills.

“Sorry.” The redhead gets up with a smirk. “We’ll be back later for the party.”

“Party?” Stiles asked. He was starting to feel tired again, and it annoyed him.

“Yeah. We’re not going to ignore your birthday just because you’re in the hospital, Stiles. We are having a party, and you’re going to open gifts and nothing is going to go wrong for once.” He opened his mouth. “No. If one more dumbass mythical being tries to fuck up my life-” He closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she huffed, blowing the hair out of her face. “It’s at eight. Melissa is allowing cupcakes. Try and make yourself presentable.” And then she left, just as Jackson came back. She grabbed his shirt collar and started pulling him down the hallway. Stiles blinked.

“I’m actually a bit terrified.” Derek admitted. Stiles laughed, wincing when it pulled at the stitches on his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

As promised, the ‘party’ in Stiles’ room started at eight. It seemed crowned in the small room with everyone there. Scott was lying in the bed next to Stiles and unwrapping the gifts for him, since his hands still hurt. The sheriff and Kira were sitting in the two chairs on the other side of the room, Derek was in the one next to Stiles, and Lydia was sitting on the foot of the bed. Jackson was behind her and Cora was leaning against the wall next to Derek. There was hardly enough room to breathe, but Stiles looked happy.

“What is this?” Stiles glanced at Derek, a simple, unwrapped box in his lap. Derek swallowed, and all the wolves in the room could probably hear how his heartbeat sped up a bit.

“Your gift.” He hadn’t wrapped it, so Stiles could open himself. The teacher slowly lifted the lid, then gasped.

When Derek had gone back to Eichen House to get rid of Kate’s body, he’d noticed Stiles’ red hoodie on the floor. He’d thought about leaving it, since it covered in dirt and blood, but Stiles had told him once that it used to belong to his mother. It probably meant a lot to him. So he picked it up and (with Melissa’s help) cleaned it up. He sewed up the torn part at the bottom (yes, he knows how to sew. He spends half his time fighting supernatural creatures, he has to be able to fix his clothes somehow) and threw it in a box to give to him. Now though, he was having doubts. Maybe he should have gotten him an actual gift from a store. Maybe-

“Oh my god.” he tugged out the red fabric, no longer bright from multiple washes and years of wear. “How…this was ruined…” He looked up to see Stiles staring at him, eyes wide.

“I uh… I figured you wanted it back. I know it means a lot to you.” _They’re all staring at me fuck._ He could feel his face heating up, and Cora smacked the back of his head.

“I did.” Stiles whispered. He beamed at him then, and Derek forgot why he even doubted this in the first place. “Thank you.”

He opened the rest of the presents, and they everyone had a cupcake that Kira bought at Publix. They all started to leave when Stiles started nodding off. The sheriff kissed his son goodbye, and then clapped Derek on the shoulder. He told him to call him John, but Derek doesn’t know if he will just yet. For now, he’ll stick to sir. Or sheriff.

It’s in the middle of the night when it happens. Derek was dozing off in the scratching hospital chair next to the bed, the steady thumping and even breathing of his mate lulling him to sleep. And then the door opened. And Derek’s eyes flew open.

The woman that entered the room smelled vaguely familiar, but that wasn’t what alarmed him. Her light brown hair was pulled back and a baseball cap over her head. She had huge sunglasses that were slipping down her nose, and she was tall, almost as tall as Stiles. This wasn’t alarming either, really, though it seemed like she didn’t want to be seen.

What alarmed him was that fact that she smelled like a coyote.

“I had to see him.” She said. Derek frowned, and he couldn’t stop the possessive growl that rumbled low in his chest.

“Who are you?” there couldn’t be more people after him already. It was too soon. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to Stiles again.

“I’m…An old friend.” She said it slowly, carefully. She held her hands up, palms facing him. She didn’t come here to hurt anyone. “I won’t be here for long, I promise.” She took the sunglasses off her face and hooked them on the collar of her shirt. She went around the other side of the bed and placed a tan hand on Stiles’ pale one. He realized with a jolt who she was.

“How… how are you alive?” he whispered. Her head shot up, eyes wide.

“Don’t tell him.” She pleaded. “Please. Don’t.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.” God. How would Stiles react if he found out? He was finally getting better, how…Would he still… _You’re being selfish._ He shook his head. “What-”

“It doesn’t matter.” She hissed. She looked back down at Stiles. “I don’t think he could take it if he found out. Please, please don’t tell him.” She begged. He gulped. After a moment, he nodded. She bent down and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Do you still love him?” the question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Yes.” She admitted quietly. “But not like that. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because he has you.” She smiled sadly at him. “We don’t…that bonds not there for us anymore.” She stepped away. “I should go. You won’t tell him?”

“No.” he didn’t like it, but no, he wouldn’t tell him.

“Good.” she nodded. “Take care of him.”

“I will.” He nodded. She opened the door, eyes flashing blue for a second, and then left. Derek stared at the door for a long time after that, then leaned back with a sigh. He covered his face with his hands and sighed.

Malia was the beginning of a whole new set of problems they had to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Malia is alive! Poor Stiles' life has been tied to the supernatural since the beginning.
> 
> I read somewhere that Stiles' birthday was April 8th? And since that's near the end of the school year, and he was preparing for finals when he was taken... Yeah. 
> 
> Derek also gave Stiles a key to the loft for his birthday, which was his way of asking if Stiles wanted to move it. Stiles hasn't found it yet. His birthday present from Derek was originally going to be a yellow scarf. I love the whole 'Little Red Riding Hood' trope, obviously, but really, Beauty and the Beast fits them better. They hated each other at first but then they started falling for each other. 
> 
> And yeah, Stiles' surprisingly fast healing has everything to do with what Kate was talking about.
> 
> I'm starting part two of the series now, and the first chapter will be up by Friday? I think?


	23. KIND OF IMPORTANT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> series update?

I'm going to be rewriting pretty much everything in this series. Because i'm actually _on_ anti-depressants now, and taking them every day, so know how they work. i know that they do work, most of the time, and that bad days still happen. It's not a magical cure, but it helps more than i conveyed in this fic. Not only that, but my writing has improved, i think? I've realized that extensive torture and constant panic attacks are not, in fact, the only ways to fulfill my need for angst.

Also, Stiles is _way_ more BAMF than i made him seem. So, yeah, writing everything. Might take a while, obviously, because it's 22 chapters and three short fics, plus ive got other series im working on. But I _will_ do it. Might even finish by the end of January.

Thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed this, though! You probably wont have to re-read the new version in order to get the fourth installment, but it might be wse? I mean, I'm not gonna tell you _not_ to read my fics, but, yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> I've written most of it already, so ill probably update it it pretty frequently, if you guys like it.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/) if anyone wanted to know.


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